Ink
by So Bitter
Summary: Ink magic is something not many know about, but should. It could ruin everything. Eventually will be Anti!Dumbledore and Pro!Voldemort. Post-Hogwarts, except for the first chapter. On hiatus until mid-May.
1. The Beginning of the Rest of Your Life

Title: Ink

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the Rest of Your Life

Summary: Ink magic is something not many know about, but should. It could ruin everything.

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture. I will update this if I come across more warnings.

Chapter warnings: Nothing for this chapter.

Note: This story is relatively slow-starting, because I for one hate it when everything happens in the first few chapters. This will eventually be an Anti!Dumbledore and Pro!Voldemort story. If that is not what you prefer, I would leave if I were you.

There may or may not be romance later on in the story. It will not be the focus, however.

I have ignored the ending of Book 6 and all of Book 7. At the end of Harry's sixth year, Dumbledore was almost assassinated by Draco Malfoy, but the attempt was stopped by members of the teaching staff (1). Seventh year was a mild year for Harry, with a normal Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and no real challenges to face. Bill and Fleur were married the summer before Harry's seventh year; no attacks occurred.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling. If there are characters I make up and own, I will mention it in the notes section of the chapter, either header or footer.

I hope you enjoy this story!

* * *

The day seemed to start like any other. The morning was clear and cool, with not a cloud in the sky. The mid-June air was only slightly humid, giving the atmosphere a rounded, encompassing feel. Birds were singing, crickets were chirping, and students were snoozing. Such is the way of many days at Hogwarts. The castle housed many students on this day, keeping them safe inside the hard castle walls as they slumbered. It was not, however, a day like any other. Not for the seventh year students of Hogwarts, anyway. Today was graduation day- anticipated by many, and loathed by some. This day meant the ending of one chapter and the start of another in life's storybook.

Students slowly began to wake from their sleep, wiping the tiredness out of their eyes and stretching the fatigue from their muscles. Curtains were drawn from the four-poster beds, and sheets were rustled. The boys of Gryffindor Tower all woke up within minutes of each other. A few words were mumbled, and the boys slowly stumbled out of their beds to get ready for the day.

Harry Potter stood quietly next to his bed, looking at his fellow schoolmates milling around as the sleepy fog cleared from his brain. He came to the realization last night that today would be his last day at Hogwarts. It was a strange thought. So many memories were made here, good and bad, and the idea of leaving seemed so foreign to him. But leaving would mean a new beginning. Harry liked the idea of that.

He could leave the people behind that hindered him. He could get out into the world and see what life was like without Hogwarts holding his hand. He could experience what the magical world has in store for him. He could be happy.

Not that Hogwarts didn't make him happy, of course that wasn't the case. But Harry kind of liked the idea of leaving the safety of the castle. He had always been under watch by one person or another, especially when he was at school. Now that he was seventeen and out of school (_Or almost_, the teen thought with an anxious sigh), he thought he could finally achieve some peace.

Thinking back on the last year of his education, the brunet realized what he was afraid to say almost all term. Nothing strange had happened. No madmen after him, no weird professors, no battle to the death. It was just school. Lots of homework, petty school drama, and a few verbal fights with some classmates, but that was nothing compared to the previous years of his school career.

Harry smiled a little to himself and shook his head. A normal year. He could not believe it. Voldemort had been oddly quiet in the last ten months, with very few appearances made in wizarding public. The only publications about his doings were speculations of his whereabouts. Though strange, the majority of the wizarding world considered this a blessing, and many families took this time to go on vacation, and the like. Harry knew, though, that the Dark Lord was not gone, and he would be popping up any time now, and no one seemed to worry about it. Harry shook his head. He did not understand the minds of the general public. How could they think their worries were gone? Realizing he should get ready, Harry headed towards the showers and began his morning routine.

The graduation ceremony was on a Sunday. The day before it was long and filled with the last of the NEWTs and packing. Today would be long, too. There was an early lunch in the Great Hall for seventh year students and their relatives, with the rest of the school scheduled for a later lunch (there would not be enough room for the whole school plus the parents of the graduates, unfortunately). After the meal, the seventh years would gather their belongings with their family and change into their caps and gowns. Soon after, there would be the convocation. Harry smiled inwardly at the thought. Harry Potter, Hogwarts graduate. Out of all his titles, that one did not bother him in the least.

"Oi!" Harry's head whipped toward the exclamation that sprung from his best friend's mouth. Ron Weasley was looking at him with an expectant expression, and Harry furrowed his brow slightly before realizing the redhead had been speaking to him, or trying to anyway.

"Sorry Ron," Harry mumbled as he turned away from the streaked mirror in front of him. "Was thinking. What were you saying?"

"I was just wondering if you got that spell down, you know, the one Hermione showed us?" Ron gestured toward his robes, which appeared as if they were trampled by hippogriffs. "To get the wrinkles out?"

Harry chuckled slightly at him. "Yeah, hold on." Retrieving his wand, he pointed it at Ron's attire and muttered the incantation. Before their eyes, the fabric straightened itself as if it was ironed.

Ron sighed in relief. "Thanks, mate. You're a lifesaver."

"Well, I am the Chosen One, you know," Harry retorted as he turned back to the mirror, running his fingers through his jet black hair. It would never stay down, of course, but Harry liked to pretend it would do what he wanted.

* * *

Soon enough, the boys were dressed in their cleanest house robes and leaving the dormitory for the morning, heading off to the seventh year lunch. Harry and Ron left together, since they were both meeting with the Weasley family. Before they left the room, the boys both turned and gave the place a good, hard look. Harry ran his eyes over every single spot, trying to memorize the little things and the big things.

"I'll miss this place," Ron murmured to himself, eyes flitting over the beds and trunks. Harry nodded in agreement.

Shaking himself mentally, the brunet turned and motioned for Ron to follow, heading down the spiral stairs and into the common room. There were very few Gryffindors in the warmly decorated space, and Harry did not see any other seventh years.

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Are we late?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno."

Harry's question was somewhat answered a moment later. Hermione, Parvati and Lavender trotted down the stairs, the former coming to a halt in front of the two boys. Lavender said a quick goodbye to Hermione as she ran her fingers through her hair, exiting through the portrait hole.

"Morning," Hermione smiled to her friends. "You two look nice." Harry smiled and Ron fidgeted.

"Are we late?" Ron blurted out. Hermione blinked.

"No," the witch replied slowly. "If we leave now we'll be there on time. Why do you ask?"

Ron shrugged. "No one's around. Can we go? I'm starving!" Harry and Hermione shared a look and the three were off. It really did seem like any other day.

The three walked to the Entrance Hall through the long corridors and down the many staircases. The relatives of the graduates would be gathered there. Harry heard them well before they got to the large staircase at the head of the hall.

Harry, Ron and Hermione slowed down to a halt once they reached the steps, surveying the large crowd of excited parents, aunts, uncles and friends.

Hermione bounced on the balls of her feet eagerly, looking around for her parents. "Ooh!" She exclaimed excitedly as she spotted them, giving her friends a quick wave before bounding after her relations.

It was not hard to find the Weasley family. Harry smiled the moment he saw them. It looked like the entire Weasley family had showed up. Percy was not there, but one could argue that he did not belong there anyway. Arthur and Molly Weasley waved merrily at the boys and Harry waved back, happy to see his family again. Near them were the twins, Fred and George, and leaning against a nearby wall were Charlie and Bill, with Bill's wife Fleur.

Ron pulled Harry by his arm and bounded down the stairs, halting in front of the group.

"Hey," he greeted with a grin, before being attacked by warm hugs and tidings. Harry received the same treatment.

"All right, Harry?" Arthur greeted the teen as Harry dislodged himself from Molly's bear hug.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," he replied with a crooked smile and a nod.

"Mum, can we go? I'm starving," Bill yelled from the back of the group, making Harry chuckle. All Weasley's loved food; there was no doubt about that. The group entered the Great Hall together, making their way towards the Gryffindor table. The hall was already halfway full, and there were quite a lot of people left in the Entrance Hall. Harry was glad he and Ron had not left any later.

Looking around, Harry noted the dark blue and cream-colored decorations in the hall. These were the colors for this year's graduates. Harry was grateful they were calm, neutral colors, having heard about a year when the students wore bright pink gowns and yellow tassels.

There were blue and white candles floating above the tables, and all of the wooden tables had dark blue place mats under the cream colored plates. The tapestries that usually showed the four house colors showed just a midnight blue, promoting the group as a whole instead of four distinct parts. The enchanted ceiling showed a beautiful clear sky, and Harry was sure there were no spells needed to get the effect today.

Harry sat next to the twins, who looked at him with identical grins.

"Howdy, partner," George grinned with a wink. Fred nudged him.

"Nice one, brother," he snickered with a matching wink to the small teen. Harry smirked, realizing the play on words; they enjoyed praising his involvement in the starting of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"How's business?" The teen asked, looking at both of them with a grin. They had been doing quite well with owl orders at Hogwarts thanks to Ron and his friends, but it was hard to know what was going on at the shop in Diagon Alley.

"Good, mate," Fred answered, filling up his plate. "Lots of traffic from foreigners this time of year. Pranks are pretty universal, you see, no need for English or anything."

George nodded in agreement. "We're cutting invention time in half and doubling production rates, to raise profit quickly. We have plans of expanding soon." He raised his eyebrows excitedly, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork.

"Oh?" Harry looked at the two, filling his plate as he listened.

"Yeah, we're looking at a shop in Hogsmeade, only a street down from the main road. Bloody expensive rent, but sales will skyrocket in the school year." The twins grinned at the prospect of more customers, and Harry could not help but feel happy for them. They worked very hard for what they achieved, and they definitely deserved the results that followed.

"That's great, guys," Harry said with a smile. "When are you going to do that, then?"

"Well, we have to get a few things in order, first," Fred said, taking over. "We have to hire at least two more employees before the move, because there is no bloody way we can do one at Diagon and one at Hogsmeade." Harry nodded.

"Makes sense. Do you have anyone in mind?"

The twins shook their heads. "We're looking, but not finding, really."

Harry nodded and went back to his plate. The twins definitely deserved the help they needed, but not a lot of people wanted to work at a joke shop these days.

The food was good and filling, and Harry was surrounded by good people. Ron and Charlie were across from him, and to his left were Neville Longbottom and his grandmother. Neville and Harry talked about summer plans, and Harry was happy to hear that Neville was thinking of entering a Herbology career.

"I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do yet, but I'm thinking exotic plant research. I'd get to travel lots," He said, looking at his grandmother and Harry. Harry nodded at him encouragingly.

"You'll do great, Neville. You're great with plants," Harry assured the boy when Neville smiled nervously.

"Thanks, Harry," he said with a smile.

"No problem."

After an hour and a half of feasting and talking, students and their guests left the Great Hall and headed toward the dormitories.

Harry and Ron walked with the Weasley clan, making the long trek to the dormitories. On the way many of them told stories of when they stayed in the castle, pointing out places of interest.

"Ah, I remember that tapestry," Arthur said to the group with a happy sigh. "Got me to Charms class twice as quick as going through the corridor. It was a lifesaver." The twins looked back at Harry and winked, knowing the teen had undoubtedly used the same tapestry from time to time. And Harry had; the Marauder's Map had shown him many useful shortcuts around the school, as well as interesting areas that many did not know about.

Once they made it to the common room, Fred and George slumped on the nearest couch, Bill and Charlie following them. Molly and Arthur followed Harry and Ron to their dormitory so they could help round up their belongings.

Neville and his grandmother were already there, and Seamus and his mother were heard arguing in the bathroom.

Arthur shrunk Harry's belongings and put them in his pocket, Molly giving him Ron's as well. They surveyed the room, looking for anything that may have gotten away from the two.

"Well," Arthur said, bringing his hands together, "Molly and I will go get your owl, Harry. Hagrid said he would keep her in his hut until the end of the ceremony. Much quicker than getting her after like everyone else." Harry nodded, agreeing. All of the students would be picking the animals up after the ceremony… wouldn't that be a fun wait?

Molly grabbed Harry's dress robes from the hanger on his bed and handed it to him. "Best get dressed, Harry. The ceremonial robes need to be magically fitted over these."

Harry headed to the bathrooms, noticing Seamus twitching as his mum yanked at his dress robes from different angles.

"Leave it, mum, no one's going to see it anyway!" He yelled, his red face scrunched in annoyance. His mother tutted and continued to adjust the fabric.

Harry chuckled and changed into his robes in the nearby stalls. He bought his robes over Christmas, so he knew they would fit him. All of the girls wore semi-formal dresses underneath their gowns, while the boys wore nice dress robes. Most of the students bought their robes during Hogsmeade visits, but some chose to bring old robes to save money. Harry had outgrown his robes from fourth year, so he did not mind buying new ones.

After he dressed he headed back into the circular room, Molly immediately grabbing his arms and fitting them into the proper holes.

The ordeal was not a terrible one; Molly was quite experienced with fitting robes. Ron was sitting on his bed, already dressed. He had not put on his black wizarding hat, yet, but it was not necessary until they left the common room anyway.

"All done, Harry," Molly said with a smile, walking around him with a satisfied smile. Harry thanked her, looking down at himself. The heavy, dark blue robes had deep sleeves with a cream lining, as well as cream-colored tassels. The robes just barely brushed the floor. Harry grabbed his hat and nodded to Ron, who stood up, yawning.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, walking with Ron to the door. They said their temporary goodbyes as the two boys headed down towards the grounds of Hogwarts.

"That took forever," Ron sighed, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "I just want to be doing it already, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, fingering the thick sleeves of his robes absentmindedly. The two piled their hats on their heads as they reached the Entrance Hall, seeing other students do the same as they exited the large castle doors.

Stepping outside of the large fortress felt refreshing; the air was nice and cool and the green grass smelled sweet and fresh. The two boys followed the mass of midnight robes toward a large platform near the large Black Lake. This is where the ceremony would be held. Chairs were lined up in front of the platform, with many already seated in the back section; the front four rows were reserved for the forty graduates. The students were previously told the lineup for the ceremony, so the crowd of students organized themselves into the proper four rows of ten, with the help of some sixth year prefects. The rows consisted of five girls and five boys of a house; Gryffindor was the first row, then Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw in the back.

The students quietly chatted amongst themselves as more guests found their seats behind them. Harry waved to Hermione, who was at the end of the row, and chatted quietly with Dean. The guests conversed with their neighbors, waiting for the ceremony to start.

Shortly after the students settled down and got properly lined up the school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, walked up the path and climbed the steps onto the stage. He was dressed in a very similar robe to the students, though his midnight blue was accented with twinkling stars and a large crescent moon on the right sleeve. Following him was the deputy headmistress and Harry's head of house, Minerva McGonagall. She was wearing her trademark emerald robes, which she favored to any other color. She would be handing diplomas to the students as they walked to the stage. The diplomas were nowhere to be seen, though.

Dumbledore stepped to the podium in the middle of the stage, effectively silencing the crowd by appearance alone. Though Harry and his classmates had not been told what would be happening in the ceremony, he figured there would be a speech. And he was right.

"Good afternoon," the headmaster greeted with a smile. "Today, on this Sunday, fourteenth June 1998, we honor the students who have successfully completed seven years of magical education and training through Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"As head of this school, I have seen the growth of the individuals that stand before me. They come to this school, merely seeds, and by the time they passed through the corridors for the last time, they have been transformed into tall, sturdy trees. Their magic has been given the proper nudges to branch out and grow, and it will continue to grow until the end of their days.

"The professors at Hogwarts have witnessed, along with myself, some magnificent examples of magic by very talented students, and even more pleasing to us educators than this is the students' teachings of it to their peers. Students are always being helped by other students when teachers are done teaching."

The old man paused, surveying his graduating class. "I have been privileged to encounter each and every one of you, and do not ever forget that. No matter the outcome, your lives will make a dent in society, for better or for worse. I am glad to know the ones who will do so."

Harry thought the man almost sounded prophetic in his last few statements. _For better or for worse,_ he thought to himself with an inward smirk. _I suppose it is possible the next dark lord of Britain is in this group._

Dumbledore pulled out his wand, continuing his speech. "With the power of magic, these young adults will be able to influence their lives and the lives of everyone around them. Let us all be thankful for the gifts magic has given us." With that, he waved his wand, and with a whoosh, many scrolls zoomed through the air, halting near him. They hovered in midair, as if waiting for their next command.

"To all of you," he concluded, "I thank you. I thank you for what you've achieved, and what you will achieve." With that, he stepped from the podium, stepping to the back of the stage. Professor McGonagall, now standing in the center of the platform, raised her wand to the side of her neck. Her amplified voice declared, "When I call your name, you will come forth and receive your diploma, and return to your seat. When the last student is returned to his seat, all students will rise and face the guests for final words."

McGonagall flicked her wand and the scrolls organized themselves, resting in front of the professor for her to grab and read. With this, the calling of the students began.

The students were called in the same order that they were seated, making it easy for students to stay in line. The Gryffindor girls were first, and then the boys; the girls of Hufflepuff would follow, then boys, and so on. Sooner than Harry expected, his name was called, and he walked up to the platform and took his diploma. He shook his head of house's hand, and resumed his place in line at his seat, strangely relieved. Now that the most anticipated part of the ceremony was over, Harry felt like he finished a difficult exam. It was as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders.

It did not take long for the forty students to get their scrolls and return to their seats. When the last student was seated again, McGonagall stepped back and Professor Dumbledore resumed his place at the podium.

"Graduating class of 1998," he began, "I ask you to please rise." The boys and girls all came to their feet, holding their certificates in their hands. "Please face your audience."

All forty students now faced the crowd. Harry felt weird standing there, knowing the people were looking at all of them. Examining the rows of witches, wizards and Muggles, Harry's eyes stopped abruptly on a man seated directly in front of him, a few rows back. He was looking into Harry's eyes, as if he had been watching him the entire time. As Harry thought this, his scar gave a strange twinge, and he almost flinched outwardly at the unexpected sensation. Blinking rapidly, the teen took a deep breath and hoped no one saw him freak out. It seemed as if no one had. Except for that man. He looked to be young- in his early thirties, Harry guessed- with dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and a guarded expression on his face. His appearance stirred something in Harry's memory, but he could not put a finger on what it was exactly. He was shaken out of his thoughts when he realized there were no more sounds coming from the stage. Harry looked around and realized the headmaster was stepping down from the podium, having finished his speech.

"Ladies and gentleman," Harry heard McGonagall announce, "the graduates of 1998!" At this, there was a deafening applause from the students and audience. This was the students' cue to throw their hats in the air in a celebratory manner. Harry was too distracted by the blue-eyed man to participate, however; the man in question was still staring intensely back at the teen, unblinking, and it unnerved him greatly. It was not until Dean nudged him happily that Harry came to his senses, celebrating with the rest of his peers.

As Harry looked around him once again, he realized that he was no longer a student, but a wizarding adult. He, who had been a part of this same group since he was eleven years old and so unsure of the world around him. He, who had learned and fought alongside the same forty people for the last seven years. From a single group sprung forty individuals. Forty adults, thrust into the real world. The veil, the safety, the protection of Hogwarts was lifted from each of them, leaving them naked and vulnerable. The real world started now, and the notion was utterly terrifying, but oddly exciting.

As the tradition goes, Hogwarts graduates ride in the wooden boats across the Black Lake, as they did to get to Hogwarts the very first time. It was a nice way to end the seven-year journey (2).

* * *

Notes:

(1) There was a loophole in the Unbreakable Vow performed in Chapter 2, Spinner's End, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Narcissa Malfoy, in her third condition for Severus Snape, asks, "...if it seems Draco will fail, will you carry out the deed...?" Since it did not seem that Draco would fail (the assassination was stopped mid-spell by McGonagall), the condition was not left unfulfilled. (This could be considered picky, but I wanted Snape _and_ Dumbledore to be alive for this story.)

(2) J. K. Rowling mentioned this in an interview: "...the boats would've been the most poetic and beautiful way to for them to leave, and symbolic..." This is found on a written transcription of a PotterCast found on the-leaky-cauldron dot org.

I hope this chapter was interesting for everyone. I would appreciate some constructive criticism in the form of reviews, so if you have something to say, please don't hesitate! The idea of this story came to me over the last few months, and I decided to actually write it down. I hope it turns out as well as it seems to be in my head.


	2. To the Weasley's

Title: Ink

Summary: Ink magic is something not many know about, but should. It could ruin everything.

Chapter 2: To the Weasley's

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Harry has some angst. It doesn't have anything inappropriate, but it is definitely whiny.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: Using passwords for portkeys is not mentioned in the books, but I think it's a useful thing and will be including passwords to all portkeys in this story.

I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

After the graduation ceremony, the students traveled home with their parents and guardians on the train. From there everyone parted ways, but not before tearful goodbyes were given and contact information was traded.

Harry trailed behind the Weasley family as they weaved their way through King's Cross Station. They were searching for an empty room so they could use their portkey. Harry thought that their group looked rather suspicious, walking through the train while wearing robes… but it did not matter much, because he doubted the busy travelers even noticed.

Mr. Weasley located a dark, vacant room near one end of the platforms, and everyone packed into it. Once everyone and their belongings were completely in the room, Arthur pulled out a large, old leather-bound book and beckoned the group closer.

"Everyone ready?" Arthur whispered, for fear of any curious passerby. "The portkey will take us directly to the Burrow. Put your hand on it." The nine Weasley's and Harry all pressed their hands onto the book.

Nervously gripping the book, Harry nodded to himself and took a deep breath in preparation. He hated portkeys. They were uncomfortable and strange, and he always had the feeling that he would hurtle off into space if he was not careful.

"Molly, what was the passkey again?" Mr. Weasley muttered to his wife. Mrs. Weasley flicked him on the shoulder.

"It's 'bookworm,' you forgetful idiot!"

Arthur nodded quickly. "Ah, yes, yes. Okay, everyone! On the count of three. One, two…three." On three, he tapped the book with his wand and said, "bookworm," and then everything was a whirlwind of color around them. Harry was spinning, and he felt like he was looking through a kaleidoscope, but he held onto the book with all of his might.

After what felt like hours, the book stopped spinning, and the ten portkeyers slowly came to a halt. Harry slammed his eyes shut, attempting to impede the dizzy feeling he felt from the trip. After counting slowly to five, he felt almost normal; shaking his head a little, the messy-haired boy opened his eyes and followed the rest of the group through the front door of the Burrow. Upon entry, Harry was bombarded with the sights and smells of the Weasley abode. The strange but lovingly built house brought a large smile to his face.

Ron brought Harry out of his thoughts with a pat on the back. "You alright, mate? Mum's setting the stuff up for the party, so we should probably leave…" he leaned in and whispered, "you know, before she makes us do stuff." Harry looked at him and nodded, chuckling. Mrs. Weasley loved giving her children orders, and all of them loved shirking them. The boys lugged their trunks up the many stairs and into Ron's room, where Harry would be staying for the weekend.

The Weasley family was hosting an end of the year party for Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione. Many of the members of the Order of the Phoenix would be attending, as they were close to the four. A few students (and former students, now) would be coming as well. Harry thought it would be a nice way to see his friends before the summer really started.

Harry changed into more comfortable clothing, some muggle jeans and a t-shirt. As he put his robes away in his trunk, there was a knock on the door.

"Harry," Ginny called from the other side, "Hermione's here."

Harry opened the door, startling the younger witch, and smiled at her. "Thanks," he said, and they both walked downstairs to see Hermione.

"Long time, no see," Harry jokingly greeted the witch as she hugged him tightly.

"Ha, ha," Hermione replied sarcastically, turning to hug Ginny. "You know I just cannot bear to be apart from you, darling. The time we were apart felt like eons!"

Harry smiled crookedly at her. He and Hermione would never see each other as more than friends, but that did not mean they could not joke once in a while. _Plus,_ Harry thought to himself, _even if I did fancy her, Ron's already had his hold on her since first year, practically._

"It actually has been eons for some of us," said a voice behind the brunet. Harry turned around to see Remus Lupin smiling at him from the kitchen doorway, Tonks next to him. The man looked haggard, but happy to be there.

"Remus," Harry greeted with a small smile. He had not talked to the man since Sirius' death nearly two years ago, except for a few words in passing at the few Order meetings he had been to. He felt awkward, because he knew Remus was close to his godfather, and Harry felt as if the man would never forgive him for what happened.

"Harry, congratulations," Remus exclaimed softly with a grin. "Can I have a word with you in the other room?" He raised his eyebrows slightly, signifying the slight command.

Harry nodded jerkily. "Of course." He smiled and nodded his head to Tonks, before following Remus to the study.

Remus looked at Harry for a moment, before saying, "I haven't spoken to you in a while, Harry, and I am sorry for that. I have been rather busy with Order missions and the like."

Harry shrugged. "It's fine, really. I get it."

The older man sighed. "No, you don't. I really have wanted to speak with you, because I feel like you and I have been drifting apart ever since…" he paused and took a deep breath. "Ever since Sirius died."

There was a silence. Harry was shocked that Remus would bring it up, to be honest. He felt as if talking about Sirius' death was off-limits, of a sort, in a conversation. Especially with Remus.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered quietly.

"For what?"

"I'm just-I'm just sorry." Harry sighed. "I know I was stupid, and if I had listened to everyone Sirius would still be alive."

Remus stared at him sadly. "Oh, Harry. It was not your fault. How could it be?" He stepped toward the young man, but he backed further away. "It isn't your fault, Harry. Sirius was a grown man; he knew the risks. We all did. What happened… well, it sucks, to make it plain, but it happened and there's nothing you nor I can do about it."

Harry snorted. "Just because there's nothing we can do about it doesn't mean it wasn't my fault."

Remus stepped closer, again. Harry backed away. The wall was now against his back. "Harry, listen to me. I do not hold you at fault for this. You are not to blame. Do you understand me?"

Harry scowled. "No."

The werewolf sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Though Sirius was your godfather and I am not, I still care for you as he did. I don't want you feeling bad about this, Harry. Please believe me when I say I do not blame you."

"What do you know?" Harry started, voice rising. "What do you know about how I feel? Who said anything about you blaming me? Do you feel guilty, so you think I feel that way? You don't know anything about me!" He knew he was being childish, but he did not want to believe the man's words.

Remus stepped closer to the teen. "I do know you're hurting. I can feel it. Sense it. Even if I was not a werewolf I think I could, with the way you're acting now. I can tell you're hurting, Harry, and I want it to stop. I care."

Harry looked down, grinding his teeth harshly. Though Remus was right about his emotions, he did not like the calm tone of his voice. He felt the need to rebel from the man's obvious care for him.

"Harry."

The teen looked up, about to snap at him, when he was engulfed in a warm hug. All thoughts of anger diminished. Remus was not mad at him as he feared, and although it would take a while to get used to that fact, he knew it was the truth. Now was the time to stop the angst.

"Thank you," Harry whispered into Remus' shoulder. The man responded with a tight squeeze. They stood there for a few more moments before breaking apart. Harry felt better, admittedly.

"Now, let's get back to that party, yes?"

Harry nodded and they both exited the study and joined the group of friends in the sitting room.

More and more people showed up; Seamus and Luna arrived when Harry was away, and he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt speaking with Arthur Weasley in the kitchen. Soon after, Neville arrived, along with Dean. More Order members showed up as well, including Mad Eye Moody.

It was a fun affair. There was cake, butterbeer and music. Harry had fun seeing his friends, and they had fun too. They all took turns telling fond and not so fond memories of their times at Hogwarts.

"Oh yeah," Seamus exclaimed, "The DA!" Many people cheered to that, including some Order members.

"Yeah," Fred joined, "That was a blast. Learned a lot from that, we did."

"And it was fun, too!"

"A very good idea," Remus added.

Harry smiled. Though the DA had not seemed like the best idea at the time, he and his friends ended up enjoying the group and gaining the skills needed to really defend themselves.

"Though Harry didn't like the idea at first," Hermione reminded. The former DA members chuckled.

"Yeah, he gave us a big speech about how he's always lucky," Fred said with a wink.

Harry shook his head, looking down at his butterbeer. It had turned out better than he ever imagined.

Seamus raised his drink in a toast. "To the DA!"

A loud chorus of "The DA!" followed, Harry happily joining in.

The party went on into the evening, until many were yawning into their hands and slumping into the couches. Soon the Burrow's numbers dwindled to its more customary four, plus Harry and Charlie. The twins left to their flat in Diagon Alley, while Bill and Fleur left to their house. Charlie was staying for another week to visit before going back to Romania.

After bidding Hermione goodbye, Harry headed to Ron's room, happy to finally get to sleep. It had been a long, exciting day, and sleep sounded like the perfect grand finale.

"What a day, eh mate?" Ron mumbled as he pulled his blankets around himself.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. What a day."

A thought came to him. "Hey Ron?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"At graduation, did you see a guy in the crowd… brown hair, blue eyes… not too far from us, in the audience?"

Ron looked over at him. "Probably. There are plenty of blokes with brown hair and blue eyes, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. He was staring at me."

"Hate to break it to you mate, but you're the boy-who-lived… you're going to have people stare at you for the rest of your life."

"Yeah… but this guy… something about him made me feel weird. And…" Harry debated whether he should tell Ron the last part. "My scar made a funny twitch."

Ron turned his body toward his friend. "You don't think it was… you know… him, do you?"

Harry thought about it a little. "I dunno, Ron. My scar didn't hurt, like it usually does. Maybe it was one of his followers? He could have been there to keep tabs on me, or something."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, maybe. Do you think you should tell Dumbledore about it? Or someone else in the Order?"

Harry hesitated. "Don't you think they'll just freak out if I tell them? Nothing happened, Ron. Some guy stared at me. Big deal, right?"

"Yeah. Should we tell Hermione?"

Harry snorted. "She'll freak out, but I suppose she should know."

Ron settled into his blankets. "We can tell her tomorrow or something. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Ron."

* * *

Notes:

According to the Harry Potter Wiki, the Order of the Phoenix knew about Dumbledore's Army: "…Aberforth Dumbledore …relayed information about the DA to the Order, as they were meeting inside his pub." I was not sure if this is common knowledge, so I put this here.

I know that in the books, Harry was not under the assumption that Remus was against him, really, but to me this is what Harry would think. Or at least, _my _Harry would think that. I guess I like the angst.

Just as a forewarning, I will be using United States English spelling, for the most part; I will try to use British slang as much as possible, at least the slang I know or that I know the Harry Potter characters would use. If I do not know the equivalent, though, I will stick with the American version.

I have never been to King's Cross Station, so I do not know what the inside looks like; I am assuming there are rooms somewhere that the Weasley clan could use for their portkeying. If not, well, this is fanfiction.

Please review; I would definitely appreciate it!


	3. Blue Eyes

Title: Ink

Chapter 3: Blue Eyes

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Some moderate swearing, and a scene with blood.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: Harry and Dumbledore had their conversation about Number 12, Grimmauld Place just like it happened in Book 6, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

All spells cast in this story will be placed in italics. For example: _Avada Kedavra._ If I cannot find an existing spell from the books that I need, I will make it up using basic Latin translating skills (Google Translate). I may even delve into some other languages for spells. I will include the translations to these made-up spells in the footer notes.

Also, as a quick spelling note: I know that the masculine version of a brown-haired person is brunet, but to me it looks wrong. Therefore, I have used brunette when describing male figures with brown hair. This may technically be incorrect, but I prefer it. If it bothers anyone, I apologize, and I can change it if it is something of great importance.

Edit: I have changed brunette with brunet.

* * *

The next day came too quickly, Harry thought, as he woke to the shouts of Mrs. Weasley.

"Up! Up, you lazy children!"

Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, Harry cast a quick _tempus_; it was already 10 o'clock, which was quite late to the Weasley matriarch.

The bright sun was shining directly into the dusty window of Ron's bedroom, giving Harry no choice but to get out of bed and start his day. _Not that I could have fallen back asleep anyway, with Mrs. Weasley's shouting,_ Harry thought with a grimace. Molly was still yelling for the children of the house to head down to the kitchen.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked over to Ron's snoring figure. To leave him, or not? If Harry left Ron to go downstairs, Molly would surely give her son a thorough tongue lashing for sleeping in longer than their guest. But, Harry knew Ron would not want to wake if he attempted to get his friend out of bed.

The brunet sighed to himself. "Ron," he called loudly.

"Whoisit?" Ron mumbled as he burrowed farther into his pillow.

"Ron," he called again, "get up. Your mum's going to explode if you sleep any longer."

His friend emitted a strange, gurgled groaning sound.

Sighing, Harry walked over to Ron's bed and quickly snatched the covers from him. With a shout, Ron flailed and wobbled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What the hell, Harry?"

Harry chuckled a little. "It's 10, Ron."

"Oh, shit."

* * *

Harry and Ron trotted down the stairs, both sporting sheepish grins as they spotted the irate Mrs. Weasley.

"Boys," she smiled at them with her arms crossed over her chest. It was not a smile of fondness. "How nice of you to finally emerge from your cave."

"How would there be a cave on the top floor, Mum?" Ron asked smartly.

Molly narrowed her eyes at her youngest son. "It's a figure of speech, Ronald. Now, come to the kitchen. There isn't much breakfast left, but I saved some for you so you wouldn't starve."

There was enough food for the both of them. Sinking into a chair at the kitchen table, Harry happily munched on some toast and bacon. Ron, however, was not nearly as elated at the prospect of Molly's leftover breakfast. Harry rolled his eyes at his friend's melodrama.

"Mum, this is barely anything! I'll waste away if this is all I eat!"

"Ronald, you will survive. Lunch is in two hours. And really, you are eating plenty as it is!"

Ron looked dismally at his plate of eggs and toast. "Plenty for a baby, maybe," he muttered as he stabbed the eggs with his fork.

Molly sighed at her son's antics while she washed the dishes from the morning meal. Harry could not help but feel a certain amount of respect for the woman's strong will when it came to her children. He knew that raising seven children was a very difficult and trying ordeal for Molly and Arthur; Harry knew the Weasley family did not have much money. He was certain that putting food on the table was quite the task at times. And yet, it happened. Making sure those children had what they needed-food, education, clothes- was important to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and someday the kids would thank them. Someday. For now, all Molly could do was continue to help her children grow into successful adults, day by day. And they would complain about what they had, until they realized everything their parents did for them.

Harry did not think he could ever do that; raising children seemed like a task more difficult than destroying a dark lord. He could barely remember to brush his teeth everyday; he could not imagine how difficult it would be to take care of another person. And to have children personally rely on him for survival-food, shelter, health- it would be insane. _Thank Merlin I'm not a woman,_ Harry thought to himself. _I'm so glad I can't have kids._

Of course, he could be a father… but he doubted he would live long enough to get married and reproduce, anyway.

Molly turned from her dishwashing to look at Harry, bringing the boy out of his musings. "Oh, Harry," she said to him, "Dumbledore will be stopping by shortly. He said he wanted to speak with you."

Harry nodded to her, swallowing his bacon. "Did he say what he wanted to talk about?"

She shook her head. "Probably regarding your living situation, but I'm not certain. Though, you do know you can stay here as long as you like, right dear?" Molly smiled down at him.

Harry smiled back. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

The woman sighed exasperatedly, pointing a finger at the teen. "Now, Harry, dear, you know you can call me Molly."

Harry looked at her sheepishly. "Well, thank you, Molly."

It was only a couple minutes later that Albus Dumbledore appeared in the doorway of the Weasley kitchen, having apparated to the front door.

The old wizard was sporting a burnt orange set of robes, with a matching hat. Harry thought it was very similar to the Weasley hair color.

The tall, thin man gave his surroundings a neutral but commanding gaze, as if observing every detail of the room. The man wore a determinedly closed off demeanor, so as not to give any thoughts or emotions away. After a few seconds of careful scrutiny, the man relaxed his stiff posture and smiled at the kitchen's occupants; he must have determined the scene was safe. Though he was not tense and outwardly calculating, the man was just as intimidating; one could easily feel the power radiating off the man. And Harry knew it to be true, from experience- the man held an unmistakably colossal amount of power. He was arguably the most powerful wizard alive.

Molly, noticing the arrival of Professor Dumbledore, set down her dishes and walked over to the man.

"Albus!" Molly exclaimed as she wiped her hands on her apron. "How good to see you!"

"Hello, Molly," Dumbledore greeted, nodding his head to her politely and loosely grabbing her hand. "Hello Ronald, Harry," he greeted the teens, beaming at them both.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry smiled back. It was nice to see the man, to be honest; he had been unable to converse with the headmaster in the previous weeks. It was quite different than in his sixth year, when he was in the headmaster's office quite frequently.

"Harry, if I may have a word in the other room?" Albus looked to Molly. "If that is alright with you, of course, Molly."

"Oh, you can talk here if you'd like," Molly said. "Ron's done with his breakfast anyway, aren't you Ronald?"

Ron scowled at her. He had yet to finish his toast.

"Run along, Ronald."

Ron stuffed the toast in his mouth, stalking out of the kitchen. Molly shook her head, sighing.

"Sometimes, I don't know what to do with him."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Boys will be boys."

Molly exited the room, giving Harry and Dumbledore privacy.

"How are you, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, sitting across the table from Harry.

"Good, sir."

"Happy that school is finished, I presume?"

Harry studied his fingernails in thought. "Yes and no. I love Hogwarts, but it's nice to be done with the classes and exams."

"Ah, yes. I am sure the academics are not the first thing to miss when thinking of Hogwarts." Albus smiled, blue eyes twinkling.

"Well, Harry," he continued, "You and I have a little bit of business to attend to regarding Grimmauld Place and the like. Have you given thought as to whether you will reside at Number 12?"

Harry did not answer right away. "I don't want to live there permanently. I know that. I really don't want to live there at all, honestly."

"The house is in your name," Dumbledore reminded him lightly.

"Yes, but I was thinking." Harry chewed the corner of his thumbnail. "What if I just left it in my name, but let you and the Order use it, the way it has been?"

Dumbledore nodded. "An excellent suggestion, Harry! That is an easy solution, and easily changeable as well."

"I will be staying there for a little while though, sir," Harry said. "Until I find somewhere else."

"Yes, of course, my boy. That is of no predicament. It is, after all, your residence."

Harry nodded, looking downward.

"It would be wise to write up a simple contract regarding the matter, to be safe." Harry cocked his head to the side, confused.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Well," Dumbledore said, "To make things perfectly clear for the Order of the Phoenix's ability to reside on your property, I mean. I can write up a contract saying, plainly, that it is your dwelling, and we are guests, and that way there is no question about it."

Harry nodded, seeing the logic in his request. "That sounds good to me, sir."

"Good, good!" Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses on his crooked nose.

"Now, the next order of business is the matter of the Dursley's."

Harry quickly looked back up. "What do you mean? Sir," he added hastily.

"Well, Harry, as you surely know, you are an adult in the wizarding world, meaning you are not under the protection and legal guardianship of Mrs. Petunia Dursley. You do not have to return to the Dursley household, unless you possess any personal belongings there."

"I don't," Harry answered.

Dumbledore nodded. "I can give them the option to contact you if need be, by supplying them my contact information; I then, of course, would forward all messages to you."

Harry pondered the idea. Did he want the Dursley's to even know they could contact him? He shook his head. "No, I don't think that will be necessary."

Albus peered at him from the top of his spectacles. "If you are sure," he said. It was obvious he wanted the boy to stay in contact with his relatives.

"I am."

"Well, if you need to communicate with them, you at least know their current residence."

Harry doubted he would ever need to talk to them again. He sure as hell did not _want _to.

Harry suddenly remembered a question he wished to enquire of the headmaster. "Sir," he began, "can I have Kreacher stay at Grimmauld place when I'm not living there? He's rather attached to that house, and he definitely doesn't like me."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, Harry. You will just have to give Kreacher the order to stay at the house while you are away."

"Okay, yeah. I can tell him to listen to you and the other Order members too."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "The last thing I wanted to mention, Harry, was your vault at Gringotts. Or, really, your vaults, plural."

Harry blinked, confused. "I thought I only had one vault, sir."

"The vault you have had access to is your trust fund, my boy. The other vaults were to be kept safe and looked over by a guardian, or in this case, myself. I suppose you could describe me as magical guardian, of sorts."

Harry knew nothing about this. He had more money than that one vault? That one vault seemed to hold more money than he felt he could spend. He had only really used it for schoolbooks and robes, and the occasional splurge at Hogsmeade Village.

"I had no idea," he admitted with a shrug.

"Yes, well, it was not something I thought significant until recently. You are now permitted to use all of the vaults freely, though you must first sign a few forms at the bank. A rather painless process, really."

Harry nodded.

"There is more than just gold in there," Dumbledore continued. "I am not advising you as to how you spend your money and other assets, but I would suggest being careful with some of the artifacts in there. I have not been able to examine the objects left in your name from the Potter line, but I know there are items that are worth a great deal."

Harry's eyebrows rose. What could have been entrusted to him? The fact that Dumbledore did not even know intrigued the young wizard. _I can't wait to see what's in there,_ he thought to himself, grinning inwardly.

Dumbledore pulled Harry out of his thoughts. "And if there is anything in there you are unsure about, I would be happy to research them for you. Hogwarts has many resources related to valuable things."

Harry nodded slowly. Hogwarts did have many resources, though he also had Hermione; she could surely help him find out anything about the things in his possession.

"With that, I believe I shall take my leave, Harry," Albus stated resolutely. He rose from his seat and dusted off his robes. "I am sorry I could not stay long, and that this is such a formal visit; nevertheless, I have quite a few things in my schedule today."

"No problem. Thank you, professor," Harry said with a small smile. He stood from his chair as well, to be polite.

"Oh, no need to call me professor, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled. "Albus will do. At this point, you could teach me more than I could likely teach you."

Harry scratched the back of his neck, not knowing what to say to that.

"Well," Albus continued, "I must be getting back to the school. I still have much to do. I will be seeing you soon, Harry." With that, the man turned and exited the room, robes whirling around his feet.

"Bye, prof-Albus," Harry called to the retreating man, hearing a _pop _shortly after.

The teen felt slightly dazed as he trekked upstairs to Ron's room. Learning about his possessions inherited though the Potter line excited him. The objects were sure to be of interest, and though he did not need lots of gold, it opened more doors as to what he could do now that he was out of school.

Ron was lounging on his bed when Harry burst through the bedroom door.

"Ron," he exclaimed excitedly, "you won't believe it. Dumbledore said I own more vaults at Gringotts! And I guess there's stuff in there- other than gold, anyway- he doesn't even know what they are!"

Ron's eyebrows rose. "Something Dumbledore doesn't know? It has to be something interesting, then. We should tell Hermione, I bet she'd think it was cool, too."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Maybe you guys could come look at the stuff with me when I go."

"Well, maybe you should go take a look first… they're your vaults, after all. You _have_ never seen it before."

Harry shrugged. "I guess."

"By the way," Ron said, "Hermione's coming over later today. She's with her parents right now, but she wanted to spend some time here. Merlin knows why, Mum's been cranky enough to scare everyone off the face of the planet," he muttered. He was still cross about the breakfast, Harry realized with an inward chuckle.

"We can tell Hermione about it then," Harry decided.

Soon, lunch was served. Ron finally got the food his growing body needed. Charlie was the man of the hour, telling everyone around the table about his work with dragons.

"You wouldn't believe the burns you can get, even when you turn your back for one second," he exclaimed.

"Is it worth it?" Ron asked, eagerly.

"Well, yeah, but sometimes it doesn't feel like I picked the best job when my back feels like it was made into a roast."

Harry noticed that Ron was very interested in Charlie's work, but that could be because he did not get to talk to his older brother very often.

In Harry's opinion, dragons were very interesting creatures, but he could never work with them; they were so much work, and did not seem to respond well to humans. He had seen this first hand when Hagrid had shown him the dragons used for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. They were beautiful, but vicious.

* * *

Hermione flooed into the Burrow in the early evening when Harry and Ron were playing a game of quidditch with Ginny and Charlie.

Towering high above the ground, Harry and Ron waved to the witch before finishing the last few minutes of the game. It was a close match; all four players were very good, but Harry won a few extra points to steal the title of winner for himself and Ron.

Soaring quickly toward the ground, Ron and Harry abruptly halted in front of Hermione.

"You'll have to join us next time, Hermione," Harry told her with a wink. He knew she would never say yes, as Hermione hated flying with a passion; it was always fun to pretend otherwise, though.

Hermione laughed. "Good one, Harry. Come inside before it gets cold, both of you!" With that she turned and marched to the front door of the Burrow.

Harry and Ron followed shortly after, not wanting to keep the busybody waiting. Hermione did not like to be at rest; she always had to be doing something.

The three settled onto Ron's bed with a cup of tea each.

"So, Harry talked to Dumbledore today," Ron started casually.

Hermione turned to the brunet, eyes wide. "Really? What for, Harry?"

Harry blew cool air over his steaming drink. "He talked to me about Grimmauld place, for one."

"Oh yeah, you're staying there now, aren't you?"

"Only as long as I have to. I want to find a flat somewhere."

Hermione perked up at this. "I've been looking at flats too! I can help you find some, I've been taking down addresses every place that looks decent." She set her tea down and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

"I found lots of apartments that are on the edge of wizarding London, so they are more close to muggle establishments as well. Like this one! It's within walking distance to a library." She pointed at an address in the middle of the paper, along with directions to popular destinations around wizarding and muggle London.

Harry chuckled at her. "I think that sounds great, Hermione. You should get that one."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I was thinking so too, but I also liked this one…" And she continued to point out every single apartment on the paper and what she liked about them.

Harry and Ron shared a look. "Hermione," Ron said, "how about we discuss flats in a bit. Harry has some news."

Hermione abruptly stopped studying her list of dwellings and stared at the two. "Why didn't you say so?" She burst.

Harry smiled. "It's not a big deal, Hermione. We like listening to you." Ron nodded. "Anyway, Dumbledore told me that I have more than one vault-" At this Hermione's eyebrows rose. "-And there are objects in there, and Dumbledore doesn't know what they are."

Hermione sucked in a breath. "I wonder what's in there! There could be some great books; I bet you there are! Oh, Harry, this is wonderful!" She shifted and rubbed her hands together in excitement.

"Yeah. I think I'll make a visit to Gringotts soon, after I get my apparition license."

"Oh yeah, when are you getting that, mate?" Ron asked. Hermione and Ron had already gotten their apparition licenses in their sixth year, but Harry had been too young to get his at the time.

"I'm going to make an appointment tomorrow for Wednesday," Harry told them. He knew he would pass, so he did not need to make the appointment too far from now.

"Sounds great, Harry. Then maybe you could just head over to Gringotts after that."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense."

Harry and Ron spent the rest of the evening with their best friend, and after she left they headed to bed. Though the day had not been too taxing, the boys both enjoyed the ability to go to sleep early after a busy school year.

* * *

The next day came quickly with a heavy rainfall that was expected to last the entire day. The sides of the Burrow were pelted with the precipitation, making a loud but soothing rhythm. Harry liked the rain, though he was glad he did not have things to do outside. It was not fun getting drenched in the cold rain.

In the early morning, the young Potter flooed to the Ministry of Magic to set up an appointment at the Apparition Test Center. It was located on the sixth floor, which Harry had never been to before.

Making the appointment was easy, as there were no other witches and wizards in the office when Harry was.

After his business at the Ministry was done, he flooed back to the Weasley's and woke up Ron, and the two had breakfast with the rest of the Weasley family.

"So, Harry," Molly started, cutting her sausage, "How long are you staying here? You know you are welcome to as long as you wish; we love having you here."

"I think I'll start looking at flats tomorrow," Harry said. "I'll probably stay here another night, if that's alright?"

"Of course it is!" She exclaimed.

Harry smiled and nodded his thanks. "I should probably go to Grimmauld Place tomorrow, since I haven't seen it in a while. It's mine, anyway, so I should make sure everything is in order."

Arthur told him, "It is. The Order has been taking good care of it, don't you worry."

Harry nodded. "That's great."

"So, Harry. Speaking of the Order." Arthur looked at him. "When are you going to join the Order?"

Molly swatted her husband lightly. "Not at the table, Arthur! We're enjoying a meal."

Harry cleared his throat. "I don't know. I hadn't thought of it, really." He had felt over the last two years that he was basically in the organization, anyway. He had never officially been inducted, but he doubted much would change after that happened.

"Well, you are out of school now, so it would be the perfect time to induct you," Arthur finished. Molly glared at him.

"Are you done with the political talk?"

"Yes, dear," Arthur sighed. Harry smirked a little. It was funny how Molly and Arthur's relationship worked. He would do anything she told him to, even if he had a different opinion.

Harry and Ron spent most of the day playing chess; Ron beat him the majority of the time, but Harry was getting better at the game. While playing, the redhead continued to speculate what might be in Harry's vaults.

"What if there's a magical staff that could defeat You-Know-Who in one blow?" He asked, his ideas getting wilder and more far-fetched as the time passed.

"Maybe, Ron," Harry responded for what felt like the thousandth time. He did not want to dwell on what might be in there, because it would not do any good. Plus, it made the time pass slower as to when he really would see what was in the vaults.

The rest of the day was uneventful, with the exception of Harry's few triumphs against Ron in chess.

* * *

The next day was rather grey and gloomy, though there were no forecasts for rain in the _Daily Prophet._ Harry awoke rather early, eager at the prospect of finally obtaining his apparition license. Though it is possible to apparate without a license, one can be subject to a hefty fine from the Ministry.

After eating a small breakfast, the teen flooed to the Ministry and took the elevator to the sixth floor.

The test was rather short and simple; Harry was to apparate to five different destinations and arrive back in the Ministry by a certain time. There were officials at each destination to make sure nothing went awry; they were also there make sure the person really does travel to each place.

The test was over in a little under five minutes, and after Harry signed a form he was officially a licensed wizard in apparition. Harry happily apparated back to the Burrow, accepting the Weasley family's congratulations and pats on the back with a grin.

After saying a few words to Ron, Harry apparated to Diagon Alley, the main wizarding shopping center of Britain. The alley was packed with wizards and witches, even though it was not even noon.

The sight and smell of the alley made Harry smile, happy to be at the large and busy center. There were street venders offering breakfast and lunch items on the sides of the street; the smells wafted towards the teen, daring him to come closer. Harry wished he had not already eaten. There were people of many sizes and colors, and Harry could see some figures that looked to be of other species as well. There were children shouting and pressing their faces against the glass of candy shops and pet stores, and there was a stand of new racing brooms in front of a quidditch store that had a large crowd formed around it. The many shops were busy on the inside, too, with people going in and out of the doors frequently. Harry had the urge to visit each and every store on the street, as he was never able to do so before.

Remembering why he had made the trip, Harry turned and walked through the large crowd toward the wizarding bank, Gringotts. As far as Harry knew, it was the only wizarding bank in Britain, if not the world; no one had ever told him differently.

It took a while to reach his destination, but he finally made it, glad to be out of the mass of people. The inside of the bank was quiet in contrast to the busy and boisterous alley outside, making Harry's ears hypersensitive. There were few wizards in the bank, but many goblins were there, doing various jobs and stamping papers at their tall desk-platforms.

Harry approached a nearby desk, politely clearing his throat to the goblin across from him.

The creature peered at him through thick glasses. "Yes?"

Harry thought over his enquiry before responding. "My name is Harry Potter, and I need to transfer ownership from my guardian to myself for my vaults." He shut his eyes briefly, hoping that was what he was supposed to say. He was not well versed in professional or public speaking, and he had surely never done things that had to do with guardianship before.

The goblin replied, "Yes, Mr. Potter. We can do that for you here. Identification, please."

Harry lifted his wand. "Will this work?"

"Yes."

Harry handed over his wand gingerly, watching as the goblin examined it from all angles before swiping it over a gold platform on his desk. Apparently the goblin saw what he needed to, as he gave Harry back his wand and said, "Please follow me."

Harry did just that, trailing the much shorter creature as he opened a door and took the wizard down a long hallway. There were many doors on both sides of the hallway, with different names on each door. _This must be where all the offices of the goblins are,_ Harry realized.

They stopped in front of a door that said 'Griphook.' Turning to the wizard, the goblin said, "Griphook is the one in charge of all Potter-related proceedings. He will help you." With that, the goblin knocked on the door and left Harry, heading back toward the main area of the bank.

Hearing an assertive voice call, "Enter," Harry took a deep breath and opened the door to Griphook's office.

The goblin before him, Harry realized, was the same goblin that helped him the first time he entered the wizarding bank. _That actually makes sense_, he thought to himself, _since he's in charge of my stuff._

Harry cleared his throat. "Er, hello. I'm Harry Potter."

Griphook nodded. "Good morning, Mr. Potter. I am under the assumption that you are here to switch ownership for your vaults. Am I correct?"

At Harry's surprised nod, the goblin told him, "As you are of age, it is a necessary action that has not taken place yet. I assumed you had finally decided to do so."

Harry cleared his throat. "I wanted to visit my vaults as well."

"That can be arranged, but first you must take a seat and look over some paperwork with me."

Harry sat. Griphook turned to a filing cabinet behind him and rifled through the folders in it. "All things related to the Potter vaults are here, Mr. Potter. If you are wondering about anything regarding withdrawals and the like, they will be here."

Harry took the time waiting for Griphook to find the papers to look around him. The office was rather bare; there were no pictures on the walls, which were a dull off-white; however, the desk in the middle of the small room was a beautiful, rich mahogany. It had many strange looking instruments and paperweights lying upon it, as well as stacks of paper that looked as if they belonged to other customers. Harry guessed that Griphook was in charge of a certain amount of vaults, as were the other goblins of Gringotts.

After a few minutes, Griphook pulled out a large, manila folder and plopped it on his desk.

"Here we are. This is all official paperwork regarding the Potter vault. As you are also the sole heir to the Black line legally, I have placed paperwork for the Black vaults in the same folder."

Harry blinked. Though he knew Sirius had given him everything, he had not put much thought into what 'everything' really was, besides Number 12.

Griphook opened the folder, revealing a large stack of papers that was at least six inches thick. He flipped through the stack, pulling out a few and placing them aside. He found a paper in the middle, and set it on the top of the stack, looking at Harry.

"Before looking at any statements regarding the Potter or Black vaults, you must sign a form, giving you official ownership of the vaults. This will transfer all guardianship and accessibility from your caretaker, Albus Dumbledore, to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. Though caretaker was a strange thing to call Professor Dumbledore, he supposed that was what he was considered.

Griphook handed the wizard a quill, pointing to the line at the bottom of the paper. "Please read through the document and sign your full name on the line below."

Harry read through it as best as he could, though it was very dry reading. The words were official, legal jargon, and Harry did not recognize many of the terms. Nevertheless, he skimmed to the best of his ability before signing the form.

Griphook whisked away the form and set it on a table behind him. He then looked through the small pile next to the folder that he made, before handing Harry another set of papers.

"This is the official statement of all funds in the Potter vaults, as well as any items existing in the vaults. It includes the trust fund, and a summary of any transactions involving any and all vaults belonging to the Potters." The goblin pushed the paper towards Harry, who grabbed the official looking document.

The amount of money printed on the parchment in Harry's hands almost made his jaw drop. Eyes wide, he looked up at Griphook, who smirked. Looking back at the paper, he turned the page and looked through the list of objects in the vaults. It was a very long list, with hundreds of different things printed neatly on the parchment. Many were books, which were exciting, but what was more exciting was the other things that it entailed. There were amulets, goblets, bags of jewels and many staffs (Ron would be happy to hear that). Some cloaks, scales and rare potions ingredients were also listed. There were many objects that Harry did not recognize, but he did not really care at the present time; the things that he _did _recognize were plenty, and Ron and Hermione could always help identify the other things.

Harry looked back at Griphook. "Could I get a copy of this, please?" He figured the goblin would not let him keep the official document.

Griphook nodded and took the document from Harry, setting it on top of a weird looking instrument that the wizard guessed was a wizarding copy machine. Shortly after setting the papers there, an identical stack appeared on top of them with a small _pop_. Griphook gave Harry the copy.

"Now, Mr. Potter," the goblin said, "We will discuss the Black vaults. They were officially given to you through a Mr. Sirius Black's last will and testament." Harry nodded. "These are also under the care of Albus Dumbledore, so I will ask you to sign another form to change ownership to you."

Harry did not bother to read over the document, as it was identical to the previous form. After signing his name, the goblin traded Harry the form for a document of the Black vault's statements.

"You are also, as of now, the official owner of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, as well as an unplottable Black Manor. Gringotts does not, however, have the location of this manor on record."

Harry did not know anything about a Black Manor; no one, including Sirius, had mentioned it in front of him.

"Was the manor mentioned in Sirius' will?" Harry asked.

"Only that you are the owner of it, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. What a confusing deal. He owned a building that he could not see nor use, because no one knew where it was. What was the use of a forgotten building?

Griphook brought Harry out of his thoughts. "Is there anything else I can do for you before I take you to your vaults, Mr. Potter?"

Scratching the back of his neck, Harry thought for a moment.

"I don't think so," he answered. "Except for a copy of the Black vaults statements."

Griphook nodded and copied the document for him.

"If that is all, I shall take you now to the vaults."

With that, the two exited the office and headed toward the more familiar side of Gringotts, where the vaults were. Harry and Griphook climbed into a cart and were thrust down the track to the lower part of the mines. Harry had never been this far down before.

After a long and unsettling ride, the cart suddenly halted and Griphook hopped out. "Follow me, Mr. Potter." Harry climbed out of the cart and walked with the goblin for a minute or so before they both stopped in front of a vault labeled P54. Harry had never seen vaults with both numbers _and _letters, but he figured it had to do with the vault existing for a long time. The naming system surely had changed over the years.

"The entrance to the Potter vaults is through here. There are seven vaults, each with a door through this one. Once through this door, there are no locks on the doors, but they will only open to those of Potter blood."

"How does it know if you are of Potter blood?" Harry wondered.

Griphook smirked at him. "A blood sample works just fine."

Harry grimaced. He had seen Dumbledore cut his hand to gain access to Voldemort's cave in his sixth year, and it did not seem pleasant.

Griphook stuffed his gnarled hand inside the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small, silver key. "This is the key to the vaults' entrance. I have a copy, for your possession, in my pocket." He patted the other pocket of his pants.

Harry nodded, looking at the door. He was excited to see the vaults, though slightly wary; he did not want to give any object his blood. Nothing good had ever happened from that.

Griphook placed the key in the keyhole and twisted; there was a loud, mechanical _clank_ and the door burst open. The door swung in and Griphook stepped over the threshold, beckoning Harry to follow him.

When Harry brought his body through the archway and into the room, he immediately noticed the strange atmosphere surrounding him. There was a force swirling around him, sizing him up, and waiting for his next move. It was as though the room was a living thing, and it was reacting to the new inhabitants. It was not an unfriendly feeling, but it was not welcoming either. Harry assumed that it was a sort of defensive enchantment to keep foes out of the chamber.

The cavaedium was large and had walls of stone, but it was different than such of the mines; it was much more polished, and had the look of cobblestone. The area was the size of a small sitting room, but it did not have anything in it except for torches around the vaults. They were not lit, however, until Harry sent a few muttered '_incendio'_s their way.

Once the room was properly illuminated, Harry noticed that there were strange silver markings on each of the doors. It looked to be in a structured language, but Harry did not recognize it. For all he knew, it was not even a real language. The markings did have a certain feel to them, though, as if they meant something. Examining each door, the brunet noticed that the sentence (or what seemed like a sentence) was repeated on each door identically.

Harry turned to Griphook. "What does this mean?" He gestured to the mysterious markings.

Griphook replied, "I do not know, Mr. Potter. Those markings have existed since the vault has been under the Potter name."

"How do you know?" To Harry, the writing did not look old. The characters might have been, but the marks looked as though they could have been painted on there yesterday.

"If you look at the copy of your vaults' transactions, it includes any damage, improvements, additions and merges the vaults have retained. Every detail has been recorded. If those markings had been added at a time later than the original forging of the vaults, it would be on those papers."

Harry nodded absentmindedly. He reached out a hand to touch the markings, but at the last minute he thought better of it and stepped away, hand hovering.

"So," Harry cleared his throat, "I should cut my hand and open the vaults?" Griphook nodded. "Do I need to do it each time to get into the different vaults?" Another nod. Harry grimaced. "Okay."

Muttering _venisicam_ (1)_, _Harry waved his wand and held out his hand; a small dagger appeared moments later.

Taking a deep breath, Harry counted to three and dragged the blade across his left palm. A sharp but manageable pain followed the swipe of metal, causing Harry to hiss lowly.

The wizard turned to Griphook. "Where do I put the blood?" He questioned.

Griphook nodded to the door. "Anywhere on the door."

Harry dragged his hand slowly but surely across the door closest to him, which was the middle vault. He made a six-inch line with the blood from his hand. The door was surprisingly smooth, and cool to the touch; it did not aggravate the incision on his palm.

It did not take long for the blood to take effect: only moments later, the vault popped open with a loud _thunk_ and swung outward. Harry, not well versed in healing spells, conjured a small bandage and wrapped his bloody palm. He turned back to the goblin.

"Are you coming in, too?" He asked Griphook.

"As an employee of this establishment, I am not allowed to step foot in the vaults of customers unless permitted by Head Goblin under certain circumstances, such as placing money or objects, Mr. Potter." Harry nodded in understanding.

"Er, are you going to just wait here, then, or…?"

"I shall return to my office, if you have no further enquiries." He reached into his pocket and handed Harry a key. "This is the key to the Potter vaults, to enter this area. Do not lose it, or suffer a large fine, courtesy of Gringotts." He paused, before grabbing another key out of his pocket. "This is the key to the Black vaults. If you examine the key, it has a small 'B' on it, to distinguish it from other keys. Likewise, the Potter vaults key has a 'P' on it."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Griphook."

Griphook nodded to the wizard. "I will close and lock the door, so no intruders may enter while you are in your vaults. Since you have a key, you will be able to exit; there is a keyhole on this side of the door." He gestured to the keyhole on the inside of the door. "There will be a cart waiting for you outside your vault. You need only say 'go' for it to take you to the surface."

Harry thanked him and turned back to the vault ahead of him. After hearing the goblin close and lock the door, he stepped around the open door to his vault, dagger in hand. When he stepped over the threshold, he was bombarded by the sight of gold and silver in every direction.

There were dozens of piles of gold that reached over his head, and silver piled next to them. In the middle of the large room there was a beautiful oak table, and many fancy goblets rested upon it. Harry was gob smacked at the sheer quantity of currency surrounding him. And to think, this was only one vault of seven!

"I can't wait to show Ron and Hermione," he breathed to himself excitedly.

Harry spent the rest of his visit examining the exquisite looking goblets. They were mostly gold and silver, with bright-colored jewels adorning the circumference of the objects. They looked as if they belonged to a king.

Harry also noticed that there was a large golden locket lying in the middle of the table; it had a large P on it in fancy calligraphy. Holding it in his hand, it felt quite heavy, but after examining it from all sides it did not seem to open, as it did not have any seams.

After a long while of looking, Harry decided to leave Gringotts and tell his friends about his findings; before leaving, he seized a few handfuls of gold for spending and placed it in his money pouch. Once he stepped out of the vault, he pushed it and it shut with a loud _clang_.

The ride up to the surface was quick, and Harry was out of the bank soon after. He did not bother to walk through the crowd, deciding to apparate to the Burrow once out of the building.

When he appeared in front of the Weasley abode, he bounded through the house, climbing up the stairs as quickly as his legs would take him.

"Ron!" He shouted, running into his temporary room. "Ron, I've got _loads _to tell you."

The redhead shot up from his spot on his bed, excited. "Oh yeah? What did you find out?"

Harry waved the papers from the bank in front of him. "Here's the statement I got from the bank. I have the ones for the Potter vaults and the Black vaults. Did you know I get those, too?"

Ron nodded. "It makes sense, doesn't it? I guess I didn't think about that before. Blimey, Harry, you must be one of the richest people alive right now!"

Harry nodded, chuckling. "I wouldn't doubt it. Look." He showed the statement to Ron. His eyes widened comically, the same as Harry had when he set eyes upon it the first time.

"And look," he turned the page, "this is all of the other stuff that's in there. There's so much stuff that I don't know about, too, like these amulets and staffs… and there's cloaks, and jewels… my family must have been very lucky over the years."

Ron nodded slowly. "Yeah. Hermione will go bonkers when she sees this."

Harry laughed. "Who wouldn't?"

He also told Ron about the Black Manor.

"I've never heard of it," Ron said with a shrug. "I mean, lots of purebloods have manors, but it isn't something that's been brought up in my family. Until Sirius, we didn't have any business with the Blacks, you know?"

Harry nodded. "I wonder if Dumbledore knows."

"Well, if he doesn't, we're screwed."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, probably."

* * *

Hermione flooed into the Weasley's sitting room a few hours later, after Ron owled her to "Come quickly, Harry's got news". She barged into Ron's room, immediately asking, "Well?" It was clear that she was excited about what Harry had found.

Harry smiled at her. "Well, Hermione, there's books. And a bunch of other stuff, too." Hermione's eyes lit up. "I haven't seen the books yet, since I only went into one vault, but here's the statement of all the stuff in the vault-" He handed her the packet. "-And it lists at least a hundred different books."

Hermione eagerly read over the list of objects. "I've never heard of most of these books," she said, still eying the list. "Some of them are in different languages, too, at least from what the titles show." She bit her lip in excitement. "I can't wait to see them!"

Harry smiled at her. "We can go tomorrow, if you'd like. You too, Ron." Ron nodded. "I'm going to go over to Grimmauld Place tomorrow evening."

Harry told the witch about the Black Manor too. "That's interesting," she said after a moment of thought. "I haven't heard of it, or read about it. But it must be real, unless Sirius was joking when he wrote it in his will…" Harry nodded, though he doubted Sirius would joke about something like that.

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent some time looking over the list of objects on the parchment. Hermione knew about quite a few of the things on there; it seemed that many of them were famous and valuable.

Thursday morning was bright, with a warm and humid feeling. Ron and Harry met Hermione in Diagon Alley, so that they could all go to Gringotts together.

* * *

Harry pulled out his key and told the Head Goblin that he wished to enter his vault. The goblin examined his key and granted him access, telling a different goblin to lead the trio.

The three teenagers took the cart down to the depths of the mines, halting in front of vault P54. Harry opened the vault with his key, gesturing for his two friends to follow him into the atrium.

Harry closed and locked the door behind them. Ron and Hermione eagerly gazed throughout the room, drinking in every detail of the chamber.

"Seven vaults," Ron said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "Incredible."

Hermione lit all of the torches, which were extinguished when they had entered the room. After the room was bathed in fiery light, Hermione's eyes locked onto the vault doors.

"What is that? The writing on the door?" She walked closer to the door farthest left to get a better view.

"Dunno," Harry answered her. "Griphook said it's been there since the vaults were opened in the Potter name."

"It looks like it's in Old English," Hermione commented after a few seconds. "I don't know what it says, though."

"Do you think it's important?" Ron asked. He did not seem too worried about what it could be.

"Probably. I'll write it down and look at some dictionaries when I get back to my house," Hermione said as she pulled out a quill and paper.

Harry conjured a dagger, just like the day before, and cut his hand, ignoring the gasp from Hermione and wince from Ron.

"Purebloods are so weird," Ron said. "Blood is so important to their security. As if no one could take their blood when they're dead. You could get into their vaults easily if you took it."

Harry blinked, not knowing what to say to that. "Should I open all of them?" Harry asked. Hermione glanced at Ron, who nodded eagerly, but she shook her head in disagreement.

"It will probably take a while to look at all the stuff in the vaults, so why don't we just open one today," Hermione told the brunet.

Harry agreed with her. He was sure there were plenty of things in one vault to give hours of exploration for the three.

"Which one should we go to today?"

"Well," Hermione said, "Which one did you go into yesterday?"

Harry pointed to the middle vault. "It has a bunch of goblets in it, and a locket."

Ron said, "Let's go left to right." Coincidentally, he was nearest to the left vault.

"Sounds logical," Hermione answered. Harry nodded in agreement.

So, he walked over to the leftmost vault and dragged his hand across the door, hearing a _thunk _as the door swung towards him.

Harry was about to conjure a bandage when Hermione grasped his injured hand. "I know you're not good at healing spells," Hermione explained with a small smirk. "And I don't want you just bandaging it." She pointed her wand at his bloody hand and muttered '_Episkey,_' watching as the skin sewed itself back together before her eyes. Nodding in approval, she gave his palm a quick cleaning spell and dropped his hand, turning toward Ron. The redhead was tapping his foot agitatedly. It was clear that he wanted to get into the vaults already.

The three walked through the threshold to the first vault. Harry was surprised to see the vault had just as much gold and silver as the vault he had entered yesterday.

Hermione and Ron both gasped in amazement. "This is incredible!" Ron shouted. Hermione agreed with the teen.

This vault had tables in it, as the other vault did, but the objects on the tables were different. There was a large table with many old looking scrolls resting on it; another table housed many velvet bags that Harry assumed were full of jewels. On the right side of the vault stood a very large bookcase with at least one hundred different tomes.

Hermione trotted quickly toward the books, excited. "Can I?" She implored of Harry. Harry chuckled.

"Of course." The witch squealed and pulled many books out, examining them from all angles.

Ron was standing next to Harry. "Care to see what's in those bags, mate?"

Harry nodded, and the two walked to the table. Harry was right; there were hundreds of jewels in each of the bags. Rubies, emeralds and amethysts twinkled up at them from their cozy velvet protection, as well as many other valuable looking gems.

Harry noticed a few small boxes near the jewels. Upon opening one, he saw a fancy silver ring with a large ruby in the middle. Opening the other boxes, he saw more rings with various diamonds and other beautiful colored rocks.

Shaking his head, Harry told Ron, "What am I going to do with all of this stuff?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, but it's cool, isn't it?"

Piles of books surrounded Hermione, and it looked like she was having a hard time deciding what book to look at.

"They all look so interesting," Hermione gushed to Harry. "Though quite a few are in Latin, and Italian… and this one is in Old English, it matches the letters on the door."

"Do you know any other languages?" Harry asked the witch. She had never spoken another language in front of the boys.

"No, but I have quite a few dictionaries that could help me translate these books," she told him. "There are also quite a few translating spells to use on foreign texts."

Harry did not know that. "Useful," he commented.

Hermione nodded. "I'm thinking I will make copies of these books, using the _Geminio _spell. Then I can translate the copies."

"That's a brilliant idea," Harry told her. That way, the original books would not be changed.

The trio continued to look around the first vault.

"What about these scrolls?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," Harry answered. "Should we look at them?"

"Well, maybe Hermione could help us," Ron said slowly. "They're probably as old as some of those books, so what would we know about them?"

"While you're waiting," said the disembodied voice of Hermione, "You could come help me duplicate all these books."

Harry and Ron helped Hermione organize the books yet to be sorted and shrink the copies of the books.

"Hermione," Ron started, "Where are you going to put all of these books? You only have that bag with you… and it's not big enough to fit a library, shrunk or not." He pointed to her small, beaded purple handbag.

Hermione smiled at him. "Have you never heard of an extendible charm, Ronald?" At Ron's vacant expression, Hermione said, "I cast an extendible charm on my bag, so I can put as many things as I want into it. Well, it's not infinite," she corrected herself, "but it definitely will hold more than I need."

"Won't it get too heavy?" Harry asked the witch, to which she replied, "It has a featherlight charm on it, too. It can't get heavier than the bag would at normal capacity."

"That's good thinking," Harry said in praise. "That will come in handy."

Hermione nodded. "Okay, every book is duplicated and shrunk. Help me get all of them in the bag?"

And the boys did just that.

After all of the books were loaded into Hermione's beaded handbag, the trio decided to call it a day.

"We've been here for three hours," Hermione told them after checking her watch. "Time flies when you're surrounded by books!" She beamed at the two.

Harry chuckled. "Let's go get a drink before leaving Diagon. The Leaky Cauldron has a new outdoor table area."

The three left the vault area and locked the main door behind them before climbing into the cart and traveling to the surface. The air was noticeably warmer compared to the lower area of the mines that they had been in.

As Harry, Ron and Hermione walked toward the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione suddenly stopped. "Look, Ron!" She exclaimed. "There's a sale on classic books, wizard _and _muggle!" She tugged on the sleeve of his sweater. "Let's go look!"

Ron grimaced a little and glanced back at Harry. Harry shrugged.

"Why don't I go get us a table?" He suggested. Ron nodded.

"Good plan. We'll be back soon. _Right, _Hermione?" Ron raised his eyebrows at her.

"Let's _go, _then!" She said, shifting from foot to foot.

With that the two entered the bookshop Hermione had been gawking at. Harry chuckled at the two and continued to Leaky. A waiter seated him at a table outdoors.

Harry picked up a menu, keeping himself busy until his two friends came back. As he looked over the small print, a shadow passed by him in his peripheral vision. Suddenly he felt a presence seated across the table from the teen. Harry raised his eyes from the laminated parchment, and felt his stomach drop.

There was a man sitting across from him.

It was blue eyes, from graduation.

His scar twinged.

The only thing Harry could think was, _Oh, shit._

* * *

Notes:

(1)_ venisicam_: This was made using an English to Latin translator, and I toyed around with it until it looked like a spell. It means, roughly, 'come dagger'. Since he was conjuring the dagger, it makes sense.

This chapter is really long, but I like the fact that it is. There is a lot of stuff in it, so if there's anything you like or don't like, please let me know in a review!


	4. A Wicked Death

Title: Ink

Chapter 4: A Wicked Death

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: I'm sorry this chapter took a while to be uploaded; I've been busy and did not get around to finishing the chapter until recently. I hope you like it.

Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate any and all feedback from the readers of this story. It helps me know that, first of all, people are reading this story (not just clicking the link and leaving) and secondly, people are either liking or not liking the story. Though I write for myself, it makes me more motivated to write when people give me positive (and negative) feedback.

Harry has a rather tough time acting the mature hero in the beginning of this chapter, but I suppose I can give him a break. He is, after all, rather out of his element when bombarded with an adversary.

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_There was a man sitting across from him._

_It was blue eyes, from graduation._

_His scar twinged._

_The only thing Harry could think was, _Oh, shit._  
_

Harry Potter was fucked.

The fact that he was stupid enough to be in public alone was shameful. The fact that there was a negative consequence today was unlucky. The fact that he was doing nothing but inwardly panicking was idiotic.

And yet, that was what he was doing.

Harry was sitting across from a man who could kill him. He did not know who he was, though he had his suspicions. One look into those clear, blue eyes told the brunet that he was a bad, bad man.

"Potter."

Harry visibly jumped, abruptly ending his panic and throwing him into an adrenaline-laced, over-confident anger.

"Who're you?" Harry asked threateningly, raising his wand.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously asking that question?"

Harry glared at the other man, though his mind was whirling with possible answers to who exactly was staring at him from across his table. The obvious came to mind, but he did not wish for it to be the answer and, therefore, discarded it.

The voice, however, was hard to misplace. He had heard it more than once.

The man smirked at him. "Give up?"

Harry snarled under his breath, sick of the man's smooth and arrogant manner.

Cerulean eyes were replaced with a vibrant, unmistakable ruby, drawing a soft groan of panic from Harry. In a flash, they were again blue as the ocean, with no trace of the foreboding red it once showed. Both colors seemed to pierce into his soul, stripping away any protective essence-and yet this did not scare the young man. It only angered him further.

"Voldemort," Harry hissed.

The man chuckled darkly. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Though I understand you are not really affiliated with the lions anymore, correct? I did see you receive your diploma."

"What do you want?" The teen demanded, not in a gaming mood.

Voldemort glared at his adversary. "Well, aren't you the social ignoramus. If you had not noticed, I have yet to commit terrible acts of evil in your presence."

Harry was not impressed. "Why have you been following me?"

"I hardly think a chance encounter at Diagon Alley is an act one would consider 'following.' Are you so lonely for my attention that you make up silly excuses as to why I may be in your general area of Britain?" Voldemort had a face of dark amusement.

"You were at my graduation. You had no reason to ruin something like that," Harry told him with narrowed eyes.

The dark lord leaned back, eyebrows raised. "I did not know that sitting in the audience was considered ruining things these days," he commented.

"You know what I mean. What right do you have to be at Hogwarts? Nobody wants you there."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the young man. "Now you listen here, boy," he hissed. "I did not come here for you to insult your betters. I came here to do you a favor. And you shall listen to me, if you know what is good for you."

Harry said nothing. He doubted his enemy had anything important to say, but figured he would listen anyway.

"Dumbledore is looking for something," Voldemort said quietly, cutting to the chase. "Something that has been long forgotten by most. He knows where to look for it, but he cannot obtain it now. Not without assistance."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't understand what you're getting at," he said coldly to the older man, "other than the fact that you have spies."

Voldemort sighed. "Just do me a favor, Potter, and listen to someone older and wiser than you for once." He paused. "Do not let Dumbledore enter your vaults."

Harry blinked. He was not expecting that. "Why?" He questioned.

"Because if he lays his dirty, power hungry fingers on some of the effects in those chambers, things will go very sour, very quickly."

"Dirty? Power hungry?" Harry laughed mirthlessly. "I think you're confusing Dumbledore with yourself."

Voldemort rose from his seat, glaring at Harry angrily. "Just listen to me on this, and you will not regret it," he spat. "Unless you'd prefer the destruction of wizardkind as we know it."

Harry grimaced. He really did not understand why the dark lord would feel the need to tell him something like that, when he knew Harry would never listen to him. But when things like "destruction of wizardkind" popped up in conversation, it was harder to ignore the warning. Nevertheless, the strong urge to throttle the blue-eyed man sitting before him was stronger than the urge to listen.

"I doubt Dumbledore would-"

"I am leaving now," Voldemort interrupted. He looked behind him. "Your friends are returning. I will be seeing you, Potter."

And then he was gone.

Harry shook his head, body tense. "What just happened?" He asked himself. Voldemort giving him a warning was something not even his wildest dreams would make up.

Voldemort wanted Dumbledore out of the Potter vaults. What would the man gain from this? What would Harry gain from this? Hell, what would wizardkind gain from this? Riddle had been rather vague on that part.

A thought struck him. How had _Voldemort _known about what was in his vaults- or about his vaults at all? Harry had only learned about their existence the day before.

Besides that, why had no one in the surrounding tables noticed the peculiar conversation the wizards had been having? After all, the word _Voldemort _was a word more taboo than any four-letter word in these crowds.

_I can't believe I didn't realize who he was,_ Harry thought to himself in disbelief. _It was like I didn't even think of it before. Maybe he had a notice-me-not charm on him?_ That was the only thing that would make sense that did not involve Harry being a forgetful fool.

Although, he was not expecting the man to be, well, human looking. He looked somewhat similar to the Tom Riddle memory that Harry had encountered in his second year; however, some features were changed, possibly with a glamour spell of some sort. Or maybe it was just age that created the difference. Either way, the boy-who-lived was sure that Voldemort was much more aesthetically appealing compared to their last encounter.

And his last statement: _I will be seeing you, Potter. _Did he mean that in the near-future sense, or a more figurative way?

"Harry!" The voice of his female best friend brought him out of his befuddled thoughts. "Look what we bought! Twelve books! Have you ordered anything yet?" Hermione asked him as she plunked down a tall stack of books. Ron stood behind her, eyes wide and weary.

Harry glanced at the many tomes in front of him. "Looks great, Hermione," he told her with a small smile. "And, er, no I haven't; I kind of forgot." He looked at her sheepishly.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked him, a weird look on his face. Harry debated whether to tell the two about his strange meeting with Tom Marvolo Riddle. After an internal argument with the more reasonable side of his mind, he decided against it; the two would overreact to the spotting of the dark lord. He did not want the worry of anyone on his shoulders. Plus, if the Order found out, he would most likely be locked up for the next twenty years of his life in protection.

_No,_ he thought to himself, _for now I'll keep it to myself. If anything happens, they'll be the first to know._

"Yeah," he answered his friend. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Just then, a waiter came to their table and everything seemed to go back to normal.

* * *

Harry bid Hermione and Ron goodbye and apparated to the step of Number 12, Grimmauld place, but not before Ron invited him for dinner. Opening the door in front of him, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The sight of the hallway alone brought back painful memories of his godfather, Sirius Black, stumbling into the mysterious veil in the Department of Mysteries.

The musty smell was not as strong as he once remembered, but the surroundings were not at all pleasant to any part of his senses. Harry stepped quietly through the entryway area, while trying to clear his mind of any unpleasant thoughts. It was difficult, but he got it under control. There was no need to succumb to his overwhelmed emotions at this time.

A movement in the corner of his eye brought Harry out of his internal deliberation and face to face with a wand. Harry tried to follow the wand to its owner but did not have to when he heard the rough voice of Alastor Moody growl softly, "What are you doing, boy?"

"Er…" Harry stammered. "I'm-"

"Potter, you should know that unplanned visits are… frowned upon." Moody grimaced. "That's a good way to let impostors in by accident. For all I know, you're not Potter."

"Well," Harry said quietly, "I am." He pushed his dark bangs back from his forehead and showed the man his lightning bolt scar.

Moody kept his wand pointed at the wizard. "You'll need to give me more evidence than that, boy."

Harry thought for a moment. "Erm… Sirius Black is-was, he was my godfather… and he was the owner of this house before he died."

Moody nodded. "That'll do. Let the Order know before you drop by their headquarters next time, Potter, or you might find yourself on the wrong side of a wand again. The next person might not be so patient." With that, he limped away.

Harry shook his head. It _was _his property, so he could drop by whenever he felt like it. Just because the Order resided there did not make them the boss of _his _dwelling.

Plus, how would anyone know the address to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix if Dumbledore was the secret keeper?

Harry did not have much reason to be at Number 12, but he figured he would take a look at his own property anyway. He quietly climbed the stairs and walked down the halls of the large house.

The house was very dingy and full of dust; the heads of the house elves on the walls had been collecting particles for years and were very thick with grime. Harry wondered why Kreacher could not clean it.

Thinking of the rude house elf made him remember to talk to Kreacher. Harry walked into his old room before calling Kreacher, so that the portrait of Lady Black would not begin to wail.

The house elf appeared with a loud _crack _and a large scowl.

"Kreacher," Harry began without preamble, "you're going to listen to me. I want you to take orders from any member of the Order of the Phoenix without question while you are in this house."

Kreacher visibly shivered, obviously disgusted in his master's words. "As master commands, I shall do so," he grimly answered.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And you shall stay in Grimmauld Place unless I call for you and tell you otherwise. Understand?" The house elf sneered, but did not comment, other than a "yes."

The teen nodded in satisfaction. "That's all. You can go somewhere else now."

With that, Kreacher exited the room with another _crack_.

Harry sighed. He wished he could get rid of the elf, but Kreacher knew too much about the Order; if Kreacher gave that information to their adversaries, it could end up very poorly.

Exiting his room, Harry crept silently though the halls and staircases once more, and headed to the fireplace. He had spent enough time at the depressing house for the time being. He flooed over to the Weasley household and met Ron upstairs.

"That was quick," the redhead commented as Harry walked into his room.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to be there long."

Ron nodded. "Makes sense. Dinner's ready in an hour."

Harry and Ron spent the next while chatting and discussing the vaults. Hermione had said she was going to be doing some research over the next few days, so they doubted they would see her until she was done; when the witch started something, she did not stop until she finished.

"Hermione will be busy for a while," Ron told him. "She seems really interested in all of those books. And that writing on the vaults."

Harry nodded in agreement. "It's like a puzzle for her, translating things."

Ron was silent for a while before changing the subject. "Are you going to apply for the Auror position, mate?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah," he answered. "Really soon. I'm glad I got all the requirements taken care of at Hogwarts."

"Me too, mate. Want to get the applications together?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, that sounds great. We can do it tomorrow, if you're not busy."

Ron laughed a little. "Busy? Who do you think I am, Hermione? I'm never busy!" Harry chuckled at that.

* * *

The next day, Harry and Ron went to the Ministry of Magic to pick up the applications for Auror positions. The application process was pretty straightforward: if a person wished to get the job as an Auror, they would first fill out the application on parchment; then, if the department found them satisfactory, they would be called in for an interview. If the Head Auror liked what he saw, the person would be hired.

The two boys filled out their applications together, both excited at the prospect of starting the job they would have for the rest of their lives. Harry had known he would be an Auror for years; the job was a perfect fit for him. He liked to use magic, and he liked saving people.

* * *

A few days passed, and Harry found himself moved into Grimmauld Place. He resided in his usual room, not wishing to explore the house for other options. He would rather stay out of the building as much as possible. Because of that, he was spending most of his time out and about. Hermione had sent him an address of a possible flat, and he had visited it and loved it; he planned on moving into the apartment within the next ten days. It both felt quick and too far away.

Hermione had told him and Ron that she had been hard at work on translating Harry's books. "It's really quite fascinating," she told him in a floo chat. "A lot of the books are about ancient philosophers' findings and archeology. Your ancestors must have been interested in exploring."

Harry drank in all of her information, happy to know more about his family. No one had really told him anything about the Potters before; only that he looked exactly like his father, except for his eyes. He did not know really what his family was like, besides his parents; even then, not much was known about them. It gave him happiness to be able to think about his ancestors more than just what their last name was.

The three decided to meet up in Diagon Alley at the end of the next week to talk about the vaults. Hermione told the two boys that she had learned a lot and could not wait to tell them all about it. Ron and Harry were anxious for the information, and thus felt the time before Friday was slower than ever.

Sooner than Harry had expected, though, Friday came. The teen met up with Ron at the Leaky Cauldron; Hermione would be a little late, as she had a muggle doctor's appointment. She did not take too long, though. Hermione had brought her purple beaded bag; seeing it made the brunet laugh, because even though it looked small, he had found out it could fit pretty much anything.

"Is there anything you can't fit in there?" Harry asked the witch, nodding towards the container.

Hermione thought for a moment. "I suppose there is a weight limit on the featherlight charm, though it's quite strong…and I suppose things bigger than can fit in the bag could not physically get in there. That's why things need to be shrunk sometimes," she told him.

"It's brilliant," Ron told her. Hermione beamed at him.

"So," Harry started excitedly. "What have you found?"

"Well, I translated the markings on the vaults, for one. It was in Old English, and it's really rather foreboding." She pulled out a piece of paper and showed it to the two boys opposite from her. "Here it is. It's a rough translation, but it's fairly straightforward."

On the paper were the words: _'Hīe sceoldon nā forð tō þās duru cōmon, būton hīe sint __blōd; __hīe sceoldon þās arleasra forðfērdon.'_ (1)

Below it, in the same handwriting, said: _he shall not come to this door, unless he is of blood; he shall die this wicked death._

Harry read the line a few times. "Spooky," he said to her. Ron nodded beside him.

"But Harry," the redhead said to him, "Hermione and I have been in the vaults before. We didn't die a wicked death!"

Hermione answered that. "I think it is referring to trying to open the vaults. I researched Gringotts vaults, and apparently it is common amongst rich pureblood families to have protective enchantments against intruders. But, if a person wants to let someone into his or her vault, he or she must give permission before letting them in; otherwise, they can be injured or killed."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "I guess it's good thing I said you guys could go, then, yeah?"

Hermione and Ron chuckled a little, nodding.

"So, what else did you find?" Harry asked the witch.

"I translated all of the books but I haven't had the chance to look through all of them properly yet," Hermione said. "I've gone through many of them though, to see what they're about. As I said before, your family seemed to have been quite interested in exploring and excavating. I think that's where a lot of the relics are from: adventuring and such."

Harry nodded. "Well, we could look at my copy of transactions and see when each book and relic was placed in there," he said. "That could tell us more about when they were found by my family and stuff."

Ron said, "I bet most of those things are really old."

Harry nodded. Thinking of how old the artifacts were brought a thought to him. "Hey, Hermione," Harry said. "Do you know where I could find a Potter family tree?"

"I'm sure there is one in your vaults, Harry," she told him. "The vault we visited had a lot of scrolls; maybe one is a family tree. We can check the next time we go to the vaults."

Harry thought that was a good idea.

* * *

The next day, the three visited the vault they had been to before. They looked through the many scrolls in the chamber and, sure enough, there was a large piece of parchment with the Potter family tree on it.

It was a large, older looking parchment that was very thick; it looked like it would be very expensive if bought new. The tree was rather large, and it had details such as birthdates and death dates, along with spouses and children of each person.

Hermione moved the other scrolls so they could lay the parchment on the large table and examine it. "Let's start at the bottom," she suggested. And they did.

Harry studied every detail on the tree, eager to learn more about his family. He found out his grandfather was named Andrew Potter (2), and he had lived until he was sixty. He noticed an increasing number of years lived before death as he read further up the tree. Some of his ancestors had lived to be in their hundreds.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, "look at this." She pointed to a name more toward the top of the tree. Harry looked at it and blinked, puzzled.

"I don't understand," he said.

The parchment showed an abrupt change between this name and the names below it. This man was the first Potter, though it did not say why. It was the only name written this way:

_Ignotus Peverell:Ignotus Potter _(3)

"He must have changed his name," Ron said. "I wonder why."

Harry looked to Hermione. "Have you ever head of this guy? Ignotus Potter? Or Peverell?"

Hermione thought for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't think so, Harry, but I can do some research tomorrow on it. I wonder why it happened," she said. "And look at this- he lived to be 376 years old. That's old, even for wizards."

Harry nodded, his mind whirling with questions that no one could yet answer.

* * *

Notes:

(1)- I used a list of Old English words to construct this sentence; I tried to use the correct forms of nouns and verbs, but it was hard because I am not too familiar with the way Old English is written. I tried to model it after a simple German sentence.

(2)- It has not been said what James Potter's father was named, so I decided his name was Andrew. It isn't too important for this story.

Update: From the Harry Potter Lexicon: _"__It is doubtful that Charlus is Harry's grandfather because Jo has told us that "James's parents were elderly, were getting on a little when he was born, which explains the only child, very pampered, had-him-late-in-life-so-he's-an-extra-treasure, as often happens, I think. They were old in wizarding terms, and they died." Dorea was only 57 when she died."_

(3)- Ignotus Peverell is distantly related to Harry, according to _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_; I have expanded on this in my story. The next few chapters will give more information on that. Also, I know that in the movies it showed Ignotus dying at age seventy-six, but I decided he would live longer.

I hope you liked the chapter; please tell me what you liked and didn't like in a review!


	5. Home Sweet Home

Title: Ink

Chapter 5: Home Sweet Home

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: Thank you for the reviews! It helps me know what I'm doing right and wrong, and it keeps me motivated. I really appreciate it.

Harry's flat is located in the wizarding area of London (1), but it is close to muggle London as well; I think this suits him well because he enjoys use of both worlds sometimes.

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_Harry looked to Hermione. "Have you ever head of this guy? Ignotus Potter? Or Peverell?"_

_Hermione thought for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't think so, Harry, but I can do some research tomorrow on it. I wonder why it happened," she said. "And look at this- he lived to be 376 years old. That's old, even for wizards."_

_Harry nodded, his mind whirling with questions that no one could yet answer._

* * *

The next few days went by uneventfully. Harry spent his days purchasing things for his apartment, since it came unfurnished. The teen had a lot of fun picking out items for each room; he had never been able to choose what he wanted when it came to colors and pieces for his living areas. He had lived in a red and gold themed dormitory for the last seven years, and when he was not there he had lived in his cousin's second bedroom or his cupboard under the stairs. They had never been decorated with anything, besides broken toys in the bedroom and spider webs in the cupboard. He decided each room of his apartment would be color-themed: the kitchen would be red with light blue accents; the living room green with silver accents; the bathroom gold with silver accents; and the bedroom blue with grey accents. He had never really planned color schemes before, but his choices seemed to work well when he imagined it. And, the most important part was that he was having fun with it.

He went to many different stores around Diagon Alley, buying different curtains and pillows and not minding how much money he spent; after all, he had more money than he could ever need. He also ventured into muggle London to buy non-magic appliances and items, such as a microwave, fridge and television. He had learned some spells from Hermione that allowed magic and muggle electricity to cohabit his flat; if he did not use the spells, he could set his flat on fire with the battling power sources. He kept his purchases minimized in his trunk for safe keeping until he would move into his flat. When he was not shopping, he spent time discovering new rooms in Grimmauld place. At first, he had not wanted to venture through the dark and foreboding house, but after a few hours of melancholy thoughts, he decided it could not be worse than thinking about Sirius for hours.

As he walked through the halls he came upon his late godfather's bedroom, and found that it made him feel better, not worse, to see it. He spent a lot of time tidying up the room, as it had grown dusty and full of cobwebs in its occupant's absence. He did not touch the actual objects, though; he wanted to preserve the room exactly how Sirius had left it before he died. He figured Sirius would not want his room organized anyway.

He also found a potions lab in the basement of the house, which was stocked full of potions ingredients. Though Harry had not been that interested in Potions class, he did have an interest in potion making itself, especially if he was able to do so unbothered. He found some potions books in the lab as well.

There was a small area in the cold basement that resembled a dungeon; there were a few holding cells, with shiny metal bars separating the cell from the rest of the area and chains connected to the stone walls. Harry had no idea there were cells there, but he was not too surprised; the Black family was not the nicest lot and they surely had some enemies they wanted to lock up.

There were a few doors that the young man was unable to open, even after he tried an unlocking spell. He was not sure if it had been purposefully blocked off by the Order or if the Black family had been hiding something, but it made him quite curious as to what was on the other side. Harry made a mental note to ask Hermione about alternatives to the standard _alohamora _spell, as he was sure there were others.

* * *

It was soon the first of July, and on this day Harry moved into his new flat. He and Ron spent the day filling his new living space with is purchases. They were not the best at painting spells at first, but they got the hang of it after a few tries. Moving the furniture was easy with levitating charms, and they had the rooms organized the way Harry wanted it in no time. Harry had purchased some little decorations for the rooms, like rugs and knick-knacks, and he placed them around the rooms in what he thought was a tasteful manner. At the end of the day, the two spent the rest of their time together drinking a celebratory butterbeer.

"This looks brilliant, mate," Ron told the wizard with a grin. "We did good."

"Yeah," Harry agreed with his friend. "Thanks for the help, Ron. I really appreciate it."

"No problem, Harry. As long as I get to hang out here sometimes, it's perfectly fine." Ron nudged him playfully.

"Of course! I would be mad if you didn't."

Harry also told Ron about his findings at Grimmauld place. "I really hadn't been around the house much there," he told the redhead. "It felt like I would be punished if I did. Now, though, no one's stopping me. No one was there most of the time, anyway."

Ron shrugged. "I'm sure it has some pretty cool stuff in there, and the Order probably doesn't know about it all."

Harry nodded. "I found some locked doors that I couldn't open, and I really want to, but I can't. I think I'll ask Hermione if she knows any different spells to open doors."

"Good idea," Ron said.

"Have you spoken to her lately?" Harry asked him. "I haven't heard from her since we saw her in Diagon Alley."

Ron shook his head. "I'm sure she's busy looking through those books. I doubt she's been outside in the last few days."

Harry snorted. "I'd believe it," he said. Hermione loved her books, and researching. If she could live doing nothing but reading, Harry was sure she would. Eating and sleeping were not on her top list of things to do.

"Dad's been swamped with work lately," Ron told his friend. "Summer means more tourists, and the wizards can't stay away from them. He had to fix this big fiasco at the zoo the other day; wizards let all the animals out and put the muggles in the cages." Ron shook his head. "It's crazy, what some of those wizards do to them."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. Some wizards really did view muggles like animals, and it was distressing; both wizards and muggles could learn many things from the other. But there was too much prejudice, and too much fear.

Ron left Harry's flat in the late evening, leaving Harry by himself in his new living space for the night. The only thing he had left to do to make it the way he wanted was to buy food; at the moment, his muggle fridge was empty. Luckily, he was within walking distance of a muggle food store, and not too far away was a daily market with fresh ingredients. He made a mental note to go grocery shopping the next morning.

The first night in his new bed was good, with no interruptions or discomfort. Harry awoke refreshed and ready for the next day, which he dedicated to grocery shopping and exploring his building's surroundings. He stocked his kitchen with fruits, vegetables, breads and meats, and bought lots of baking ingredients and spices. He had always wanted to venture into the world of cooking, more than he had- that is, more than the boring meals his aunt and uncle always asked for. He bought several different cookbooks and planned to make a different meal every day for a while.

After that he went for a long walk around his area of London- but not before casting a strong notice-me-not charm on himself, so as not to attract unwanted attention. He saw many people out and about on their lunch breaks; muggle businesspeople were talking on their cell phones as they walked, and many men and women sat in a nearby park eating lunch.

Harry noticed the muggles had a little bit of a different way of speaking than wizards; it was most likely because they did not really associate with each other, and therefore would incorporate different people and words in their speech. Muggle London also housed more immigrants, which influences dialect a lot, whereas wizards seemed to migrate to individuals very much like themselves. Harry supposed it was because wizard immigration laws were very strict at the present time; the Minister for Magic had almost completely closed wizarding Britain off from any other country. He supposed it was because Britain was in a war; it would not be good to add more people to the chaos. However, trade was very limited too; the majority of wizarding goods had been made locally for the last couple decades, which limited the selection of many things. Harry wondered if it would change when the war was over.

It was not as if Scrimgeour was controlling Britain for its own good; he was controlling it for appearances. If other countries thought that Britain was taking care of itself and managing its problems, Scrimgeour would be considered a good politician and would be held in high esteem internationally. The man was very focused on how things appeared, which was his biggest flaw; he did not care about how things really were, just how they seemed. Harry did not know if he disliked Scrimgeour or Fudge more when it came to politicians.

It was not as if any other person would step up to lead the people, though. There were not many willing to deal with a large population of wizards and, in a way, a large population of muggles-especially when Voldemort was attempting to take over. Most were not prepared to face a crisis, and for that Harry had to say Scrimgeour did an okay job. _Definitely better than Fudge,_ Harry thought, _since all he did was pretend Voldemort didn't exist._

It was hard for Harry to understand how one could pretend a monster wreaking havoc on Britain simply did not exist. But, he supposed it was easier to deny a problem than to face it when it came to politics.

To Harry, it was hard to think of Voldemort as a politician, but that was exactly what he was. To Harry Voldemort was a murderer, an arrogant hypocrite who could not get power off of his mind. To those not directly effected by the man, however, he was just another person wishing to be the most important person. He lied to people and had strong views for certain things, just like a politician. He just chose to be a rather barbaric one, Harry supposed.

Then again, Harry did not truly understand Voldemort and did not know much of his dealings except for the ones that made the front page: raids and other murders performed by Riddle and his men. He knew nothing of what the man did when he was not creating chaos and spilling blood. For all he knew, the man spent his hours speaking to others about his beliefs, like a politician does. Not that he cared. He was just a little confused after his run in with the man- or monster- not long ago.

Shaking his head, the wizard continued his trek through the city, keeping his mind on his surroundings.

* * *

The next week went by quietly and comfortably. Harry spent his days enjoying the nearby park and many interesting buildings. The young man would make a meal and pack it in a bag to take along with him so he could eat without having to purchase anything. He enjoyed walking through the markets and up and down the pathways for hours. The days had been quite pleasant with a fair amount of sunshine and a moderate temperature. At night he would come home to his apartment and cook for himself, and often would spend a few hours in front of the television. He had not been able to watch it much throughout his life, and now he found it quite interesting. Some of the programs were ridiculous, but Harry found many of the documentaries appealing.

He had spoken with Ron a few times, but the wizard was enjoying being by himself for the time being. It was a nice change to the constant togetherness Hogwarts caused; the brunet spent all of his nights in a dormitory with other Gryffindor guys, and had classes with dozens of classmates. It was strange but pleasing to have a break from it all.

Hermione had yet to write him or Ron back, but Harry was not worried. He was excited, though, to find out who Ignotus Peverell was. Though he could do some research on his own, he knew Hermione had already started and did not think it would make sense to do the same.

Harry wanted to know why this Peverell man decided to become a Potter- a family known to be proud of their name and heritage. Were they proud because of what he did? Harry did not know.

It was a rainy Thursday evening when Ron flooed into Harry's fireplace unannounced, running to the Harry-occupied kitchen.

Harry turned from his dinner to see his friend trotting excitedly through the threshold of his kitchen.

"Hey, Ron," the wizard greeted, slightly confused. It was not an unwelcome intrusion, but a surprise nonetheless.

"How'd yours go?" The redhead asked, forgoing the greeting.

Harry cocked his head to the side, confused. "My what?" He asked slowly.

"Your interview!" Ron grinned. "I just finished mine, I figured yours was ages ago, I mean how would they not ask you to come in right away?"

Harry continued to stare at him, confused.

"Your Auror interview?" Ron took on a tone of incredulity.

Harry felt his stomach drop to the floor. He had never been asked to come in for his interview. If Ron had just gotten his, that meant they had looked at his application and discarded it.

How could they have discarded an application from a new graduate with adequate marks? Was the Auror division suddenly full of employees that they were not asking for more, when last month they had an entire page of the _Prophet _dedicated to their low numbers?

And how could they say no to the Chosen One?

Harry knew that was a poor argument, but it seemed strange to him that the Ministry suddenly did not want the Boy-Who-Lived to work for them. For some, that would be enough credentials to hire him.

It was not that he had the most excellent grades, but he had gotten the right amount of OWLs and NEWTs to become an Auror. He had made sure of it. And it was not as if Ron had gotten top marks, either.

Ron was staring at Harry, waiting for him to say something.

"I haven't gotten an interview," Harry said.

Ron's eyes widened. "But-you're you! You're Harry!" He stared at the ground disbelievingly. "Maybe they didn't get your letter out yet, mate. Or maybe the owl can't find your new flat." Ron's tone held a note of hope for his best friend. He knew Harry wanted the job.

"Owls don't need addresses, Ron. They look for the person." Harry was starting to feel dejected at the prospect of not getting hired for his only job choice.

Ron scratched the back of his head. "They must not have realized whose application they were looking at. You should go in and talk to them, Harry. Tell them you're interested. They'll want you on their side. They're Aurors, for fuck's sake!"

Harry gave a half-smile and nodded. "Thanks, Ron. How did yours go, then?"

Ron could not hold back his grin. "It went great! They barely asked any questions before hiring me. Told me they were looking for a person with my personality."

Harry felt happy for Ron. "That's great, Ron," he said, trying to think of his friend's happiness. He could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy. His friend had gotten his dream job. He knew it was wrong, but he felt it should have been both of them, or neither of them.

Harry suddenly did not feel like talking to Ron anymore. "I'm sure your family will want to hear the news," he told him neutrally, poking at his chicken with a fork.

Ron blinked. "Oh, yeah! I just figured I would tell you first, you know, because I thought yours had…well… I just thought I would tell you first." He smiled at Harry.

All Harry could do was nod. He did not feel like saying anything.

Ron shuffled a little. "Well… it was nice seeing you, Harry. I'll Floo you soon so we can get together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

And then Ron left.

* * *

On Saturday, Remus owled Harry to come to headquarters for a big dinner set up by Molly. Harry did not really want to be around others; he was still bitter over the Auror incident. But, he had not seen Remus since his graduation party (and before that it had been over a year), so he accepted the invitation.

He had missed Remus and his serious but lighthearted nature. He had really bonded with the werewolf (2), as much as he could, through letters after Remus had left his job as a professor at Hogwarts. They had owled each other in the summer and during Harry's fourth year, which was nice because he really did not have many people to write to. Remus always had good advice for what to do in a lot of situations, which he was grateful for.

When Harry found out about the Order, it made it easier to see the werewolf. Remus had been at headquarters frequently, trying to get the organization up and running again, and when Harry got there he could spend time with the man. It was nice speaking with people who knew his parents.

Besides Remus, Harry always enjoyed seeing the Weasley family. Bill and Fleur would be in attendance, as well as the twins.

Harry headed over to Grimmauld Place Saturday evening, stumbling through the Floo with a grimace. Floo travel had to be the messiest, most impractical mode of transportation in the wizarding world.

When he righted himself, dusting off all of the ash, he was greeted by many familiar faces of the Order.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in the doorway of the living room, along with Tonks and the Weasley twins.

"Harry," George said, "hurry up, we're waiting for you."

Harry gave him a confused look, to which he elaborated, "Everyone's here but you!"

Harry chuckled. Though he was a few minutes early, the Weasley's were not good at waiting for food. The sight of Harry surely gave them hunger pains, knowing it was almost time to dig in.

Harry followed the others to the kitchen, noticing there were many people standing and sitting in the room- possibly twenty-five, which had to be a record for dinner served under Molly.

A hand waving in his peripheral vision brought Harry's attention to the vibrantly colored Albus Dumbledore, who was attempting to get the young wizard's attention.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said in greeting, "how are you this evening?"

Harry walked over to the old man, eyes taking in the candy apple red robes the man sported. "Hello, headmaster," he said, before correcting himself to "Albus" at the man's look. "I am alright, and yourself?"

"Oh, splendid! Splendid indeed, with all of this excellent company to be dining with." He gestured to the folks around him with a smile.

Harry nodded. "Molly must have been busy for a long time to make this much food."

"Oh, but she enjoys it, doesn't she?" Dumbledore inclined his head and raised his eyebrow.

Harry smiled at that. "Yes she does."

Dumbledore studied him. "I was meaning to talk to you, Harry." He paused. "Rumor has it that you are looking for employment, and as your last inquiry has gone through, I have an alternative you may want to consider."

At Harry's look of surprise, Albus said, "Kingsley told me that you had applied for a position as an Auror, and I am sorry they did not take you, Harry, but they surely will be more sorry when they realize what they have turned away."

Those words made Harry feel better about it all. Yes, they were missing out! They would regret it.

Dumbledore continued, "As you surely know, Hogwarts is always looking for teaching positions for certain subjects. The most obvious is, of course, Defense Against the Dark Arts." He gave Harry a significant look. "You did, as you already know, top your classmates in that subject."

Harry was frozen in shock. He did not think he would be offered a teaching job, never in a million years. He was not the teacher type, surely.

Dumbledore leaned closer to the young man. "You did do an excellent job leading your fellow students in your Dumbledore's Army group." He winked at Harry.

Harry stuttered. "Well, you don't think I, I mean, I can't be what you're looking for-eh?" He was young, and did not think he knew enough to teach anyone.

"I really think you should do it, Harry," Albus said. "I am not telling you to do it without any consideration, and you are welcome to say no. It is merely an offer that would benefit the both of us."

Harry nodded, dazed. "I'll think about it, Albus. Thank you for the offer." He did not know what else to say. He definitely was not expecting the conversation.

His confused thoughts were interrupted by Molly's shout of, "Dinner's ready!" Shaking his head, Harry walked to the long table and took a seat.

* * *

Notes:

(1)- Wizarding London: Originally, The City of London (now an area in modern London) was founded by wizards and muggles alike; after a few hundred years and the Statute of Secrecy, muggles and wizards separated (publically), and London continued to grow. In modern London, the wizarding section is about half of the city: the City of London and everything West of it (as if London was cut in half); the other half is mostly inhabited by muggles. It is not strictly this way, but mostly (obviously muggles travel to the other side of London; they just cannot see the wizarding establishments, and the houses look ordinary on the outside). Muggles do not really know outwardly what is a wizarding establishment or who is a magical being, but the magical buildings have mild muggle repelling charms to keep curious people out.

(2)- Remus and Harry being buddies is not canon, but I prefer them being more friendly to each other than just student-professor politeness.

I hope you liked the chapter; please tell me what you think of it (and the story in general) in a review! They really help me.


	6. Professor Potter

Title: Ink

Chapter 6: Professor Potter

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings:

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: Thank you very much for your reviews! They really help me. As a reader of fanfiction, I never realized how important reviewing was; now that I write it too, I understand what it does for the author and its role in writing. Thank you!

I have changed the style of thoughts in the story. Before, thoughts were words in single quotations (for example, 'thought'). Now, thoughts are italicized (for example, _thought_). Sorry if this confuses anyone.

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_Harry was frozen in shock. He did not think he would be offered a teaching job, never in a million years. He was not the teacher type, surely._

_Dumbledore leaned closer to the young man. "You did do an excellent job leading your fellow students in your Dumbledore's Army group." He winked at Harry._

_Harry stuttered. "Well, you don't think I, I mean, I can't be what you're looking for-eh?" He was young, and did not think he knew enough to teach anyone._

"_I really think you should do it, Harry," Albus said. "I am not telling you to do it without any consideration, and you are welcome to say no. It is merely an offer that would benefit the both of us."_

_Harry nodded, dazed. "I'll think about it, Albus. Thank you for the offer." He did not know what else to say. He definitely was not expecting the conversation._

_His confused thoughts were interrupted by Molly's shout of, "Dinner's ready!" Shaking his head, Harry walked to the long table and took a seat._

* * *

Harry Potter, the teacher. The boy-who-lived, the professor. The Chosen One, the instructor.

Harry could not get over the strangeness that Albus Dumbledore had presented him: the offering of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position to seventeen-year-old Harry Potter. He had barely left the school before being welcomed back. It seemed really surreal to him.

_Then again,_ Harry thought to himself, _It's not like I haven't seen a fair share of Dark Arts done in my life. I know more than people twice my age in that aspect._

The problem was, in his mind, that he did not even know where to start when it came to making a curriculum and explaining things to people. He was not the best at making people understand- he was a shower, not a teller.

It would be a job easy to keep, however. It was not as if Dumbledore had a problem with keeping bad teachers; he kept Gilderoy Lockhart for an entire year. If Harry did a bad job, he would not be sacked, like in other places of employment. He would get a decent salary for a single young man, and could live in the castle he had grown up in for the last seven years. There were three meals a day (or more if he went to the kitchens between meals), beautiful grounds to walk on and a quidditch pitch to practice in.

But what about his flat that he recently obtained? He could keep it and live there in the summer, but he liked his flat; he had finally bought and decorated a living space of his own, and he liked it. And as an added thought, what about the being "thrust out into the real world"? Surely teaching at the school Harry just graduated from was not considered being in the real world.

_Remember though,_ the argumentative side of Harry thought, _No teacher has lasted longer than a year. You can be out of there by this time next year._

Harry sighed. It would be easy to say yes to Albus, take the position and try to teach for a year, but he felt like it would hinder his maturation into adult life. Being stuck in a castle all the time, surrounded by children all of the time, having to deal with hotheaded students and those who did not finish their homework… and _grading, _he thought with a groan_. _He had forgot all about that would have to give his students marks for all of their coursework, all of the time. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had yet to tell Hermione about it all; he figured he would think about the whole thing first before talking to her about it. He knew she and Ron would be happy for him, and Hermione would push him to take the job; but he did not want to hear it when he did not even know his feelings on it all.

Thinking of his two friends, he decided to owl them and ask them to meet; he wanted to look more at his vaults with them. He knew he could go without them, but he did not want to see any of it by himself when he knew he would show them anyway. Plus, he wanted to see what Hermione had found about Ignotus Peverell.

Harry decided that he would not call the man a Potter, even though he had founded the line; it was not his original name, from the look of it, and it was better than saying both names in confusion.

The man wondered if Dumbledore, or others who knew about ancestry of wizards, knew of Peverell. Just because he and his friends had never heard of him did not mean he Peverell was not popular or well known.

Harry sent his two letters with Hedwig and went back to pondering his job offer.

* * *

A few days went by before Harry received word from his two friends; Ron had been busy with his Auror orientation, and Hermione had been busy with other things. They both agreed to meet their dark-haired friend at the end of the week to talk about the vaults and share a meal at the Leaky Cauldron, like they had last time. Harry looked forward to speaking with Hermione about her findings on Peverell, the mystery man.

Throughout the passing days, Harry's thoughts continued to dwell on his surprising meeting with his enemy, Lord Voldemort. The man's words had left an imprint on his mind, but Harry did not know if it was in a positive or negative way. The fact that the man had found him in broad daylight to warn him about Albus Dumbledore- his possible future employer- was a very bold move on his part. He knew the man enjoyed making a scene, and he definitely enjoyed confusing his rivals for personal gain. Or political gain, Harry supposed.

He could not shake the warning Voldemort had given him. _"Do not let Dumbledore enter your vaults." _He knew he should not let the Dark Lord manipulate his mind, but the fact that the man knew of Harry's vaults had to mean something. And plus, what would it hurt to keep the man out of his vaults anyway? It was not as if the old wizard needed to get in there. For the time being, he did not have to worry about it, as Albus had not asked to see his vaults, but he worried of a time where the man would. But, he decided, he would not think of it until the time would come.

Harry sat by himself in a booth near the back of the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for his two friends to arrive and sit with him. He had gotten there early, not having anything else to do, so he enjoyed the quietness of the establishment while he could. The lunch crowd would be turning up soon, and that crowd consisted of the majority of Diagon Alley's inhabitants- there were not very many restaurants on the main street and most witches and wizards did not wander from the main path. It was unfortunate, as there were quite a few small good eateries around the wizarding town that did not get much attention.

As Harry sat at his table, scratching off a piece of hardened grease from its top, a shadow loomed over him, and he had a distinct sense of déjà vu when a man with familiar, piercing blue eyes sunk quietly into the seat across from him. The hair on the back of Harry's neck rose with anticipation, and he gripped his wand under the table.

"Voldemort," Harry said with narrowed eyes.

The man smirked. "Much quicker than our last encounter," he said. "Excellent. Though I think you should call me Tom while we are in the public's eye, as we do not want to cause a scene."

Harry did not know what to think, but he found himself more curious than angry at the sight of his enemy.

"You didn't care that I said it last time," He said with a frown. He knew the man hated being called Tom, so it was strange to hear the request.

"Last time," Tom said, "There were certain enchantments that I used to keep others from noticing our conversation."

"And why don't you use them this time, Vol-Tom?"

Tom smirked his cocky half-smirk. "Why, Harry? Are you afraid of others hearing our conversation?"

"No, but I'm just wondering why you wouldn't use the spells you used last time. You're kind of a control freak."

Tom narrowed his eyes, sneering. "I can handle a simple young boy, and whoever else enters this filthy establishment," he hissed.

Harry sighed. "What do you want?" He asked neutrally.

Tom's face slid back into his normal, cocky appearance. "Well, I thought I would offer my _sincere _condolences on the Auror job. I'm sure it was quite the disappointment for you."

Harry's mouth opened in shock, but he quickly closed it in a glare. "How do you know about that?" He asked darkly.

Tom shrugged a shoulder innocently. "I don't know. A follower of mine must have told me."

Harry continued to glare at the man. "If I find out that you sabotaged my application," he threatened lowly, "I will-"

"Do you honestly think I would do that?" Tom interrupted him. "I couldn't care less if you were a dark wizard catcher." He said the last words with a condescending smirk. "It won't make it harder to kill you if I so choose."

Harry sighed. He was sure Voldemort had done it; how else would he know about the application? But the man was right- there was not really a point in doing so.

"I have another job offer," Harry told him. "So I'm not too bothered by it."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "And what would that offer be?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," he told the man. "At Hogwarts."

Tom's face showed no emotion, so Harry could not read the reaction on his face.

"And are you going to take it?" He asked Harry.

"I don't know."

"You should," Tom said. "The best way to know what that coot's up to is being around him constantly."

Harry snorted. "He's not up to anything."

Tom let out a small guffaw. "I hope you don't really believe that, _Professor Potter_. I thought you were at least somewhat intelligent."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the insult.

"I hope you listened to my warning from our last encounter," Tom continued. "It's quite important. It will not only benefit me."

"Who else will it benefit, then?"

Tom stared intently into Harry's eyes. "It will benefit everyone."

Harry tried to keep himself from shivering at the man's unnerving stare. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know what Dumbledore's doing."

"And you know what he's searching for?"

"Yes."

"So you know what's in my vaults?"

"Many things, yes."

Harry's mind whirled before forming a question he needed to ask Tom.

"Do _you _know who Ignotus Peverell is?"

Tom looked as if he was about to answer, but before he could, he looked behind him and stood quickly.

"I must go," he said to Harry. "I'll be seeing you around, Potter."

Then, he apparated away with a quiet _pop_.

Harry sighed in frustration. He was sure Voldemort knew about Peverell, but he did not get the chance to answer. Or maybe he did not want to answer.

Before he had a chance to think more about his conversation, his two friends approached his table with matching smiles.

"Hey," Ron said to Harry. Hermione waved to him. Harry returned their greetings, acting as if nothing strange had happened.

"How's it going, mate?" Ron asked.

"Not too bad," Harry answered. "Nothing's really going on at the moment." _Except that Voldemort had just spoken with me again._

"Can't say the same for myself, really," Ron said excitedly. "Auror training has been great! I'm learning spells we didn't know in school, and I get to train with the best."

"That's great, Ron," Harry said to him. He had gotten over his small bout of jealousy and came to appreciate the true excitement the man was showing at his own hard work.

"How are you, Hermione?" Harry asked. Hermione had been mostly silent since she came to the table.

"Oh, not too bad," she said with a small smile. "I've been quite busy with things. My parents and I are going on vacation to France in a couple weeks."

"That's great," Harry said. "Have you found anything about Peverell?" He could not help but cut the small talk and ask about the man plaguing his mind.

Hermione bit her lip. "I've looked in the library in Diagon (1), and I didn't find anything in there."

Harry, visibly deflated, leaned back in his seat. "I see."

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said to him with a sympathetic frown. "I know you really wanted to find out about him, and you still can, but I just haven't been able to get anything on him yet."

Harry nodded. "Yeah." A thought struck him. "Maybe I could find something in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes, that's definitely possible. Dumbledore collects many rare books that would not be found in public libraries. You could ask him to look for you in the next few weeks before the new term starts."

"Or," Harry said, "I could go look myself."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "I'm not sure Dumbledore would let you, Harry. I know you and he are on good terms and everything, but you're not a student anymore. I doubt he'd let you roam the castle for a book when he could just do it."

Harry figured now would be as good of a time as any to tell his friends about his job offer. "Well," he said with a grin, "I have something to tell you guys."

Ron perked up from his slouched position. "What is it?"

"Well, Ron already knows the first part." He nodded in Ron's direction. "I didn't get the job as an Auror. But, Dumbledore came to me during the last dinner at headquarters," Harry told them, "and he offered me a job at Hogwarts."

The looks on his friends' faces were shocked and elated, just as he expected they would be.

"That's great, Harry!" Hermione burst. "For the Defense position, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he really wants me to take the offer."

"You'd do great, mate," Ron told him. "I mean, the two jobs you'd be best at are Auror and DADA teacher, and since one didn't work out… you can do the other one."

Harry internally winced at the reminder of his failure in the Auror issue. Though he was happy for Ron, the fact that he had not gotten the job still felt rather poor.

"Well, I hadn't been sure if I would take the job or not," Harry said, "but now that there's an incentive it seems like a perfect plan." He had a feeling he would find the book in that library, and it would be quite easy to grab it if he was a professor at the castle.

"That's really great," Hermione told him. "You get to teach students all of the things you've learned! And you can learn more as you go, and read all of the books in the library whenever you choose!" The look on her face was a mixture of envy and joy.

Harry chuckled at her excitement. "Yeah, it'll be great. I need to write up a curriculum, though. I don't even know where to start for that."

"We could help you," Ron suggested. "I mean, Hermione's great at organizing things, and she knows loads of spells. And I'm learning new spells you can include in your classes. It'll be like planning DA meetings!" Hermione nodded in agreement.

Harry thought about it. It would be a lot easier with his friends' help. "Okay. That sounds doable."

"Great!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'll be leaving in two weeks, but we can meet before that to start planning. I haven't been by your new flat yet, but I'd love to see it; we can work on the curriculum there."

Harry smiled. "Sounds great, guys," he said to them. "Thanks."

"No problem," Ron answered.

Suddenly, the idea of being a teacher did not sound too bad at all.

* * *

The three visited his vaults again, deciding to enter the next vault down the line. Harry knew there were many things they had not seen in the other vaults, but they could always go back.

The vault they entered had just as much gold as the previous vaults had. This one, though, was filled with potions ingredients too. Vials and jars were placed all around the chamber, filling the room. A note on a table near the door to the vault said 'Potions ingredients protected by charms- will not go bad.' All of the containers were labeled, but many of the ingredients were unfamiliar to Harry.

Hermione was very excited to examine the potions ingredients. "Lots of these ingredients are really rare," she said. "Some of these I've only heard of in old texts. I bet these are worth a fortune."

Harry shrugged. "I don't really want to find out, to be honest," he said. "If people find out I have rare potions ingredients, they'll try to buy them, or steal them. Who could I find that would tell me how much they're worth that I could trust?"

Hermione did not answer. She was staring at a vial she found in a drawer near the eastern wall.

"This is Silphium," she said in awe. "At least, that's what it says." She turned around, facing Ron and Harry. "This plant was said to have gone extinct in ancient times."

Harry blinked. "So I have a plant that's supposed to be extinct?"

Hermione nodded. "You have lots of it, too," she said, pointing at the drawer. "This drawer is full of it."

Harry whistled lowly. "I bet that's worth a lot."

Ron chuckled, shaking his head. "I wonder what people would do if they knew what was in here."

Harry's thoughts drifted to his conversation with Voldemort. A certain old man knew what was in his vaults, and according to the dark wizard, it was a bad thing. And that was only one person. It was hard to imagine the chaos that would ensue if the public knew of the things Harry owned.

* * *

Notes:

(1)-I don't think it has ever been said that Diagon Alley has a library, but I think it should. To me, Diagon Alley is more than just a shopping center; it's almost like a small city. So, I think it should have a library. Not on the main road, as that has places to shop, but on a lesser road.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

In case anyone would like to know in advance when I plan to update, I put approximate update dates on my profile. They're usually right. So, if anyone likes to know that sort of thing, feel free to visit my profile and check that out.

If you feel like reviewing, please do so! It would make my day.


	7. Time Draws Nearer

Title: Ink

Chapter 7: Time Draws Nearer

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings:

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: I am terribly sorry for the delay in this chapter. I have been focusing more on real life, unfortunately, but now I have ventured back into the land of the internet.

I'd like to give a big thank you to everyone who reviewed! It gives me the will to write, as well as ideas for how or when to introduce things in the story. The nice thing about fanfiction is that, since it is not updated all at once, readers can send feedback to help improve the story before the entire novel is written and published. And for that, I'm very thankful for my readers.

This chapter is more or less a filler, but the next chapter will be long and full of lovely plot points and details. Don't worry.

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_Ron chuckled, shaking his head. "I wonder what people would do if they knew what was in here."_

_Harry's thoughts drifted to his conversation with Voldemort. A certain old man knew what was in his vaults, and according to the dark wizard, it was a bad thing. And that was only one person. It was hard to imagine the chaos that would ensue if the public knew of the things Harry owned._

* * *

Harry Potter sighed for what seemed to be the thousandth time, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was attempting to write a letter to Dumbledore to notify him of Harry's acceptance of the teaching position, but he could not figure out what words to use. Harry was not quite sure what he was supposed to say; for one, he had no real professional writing skills. The writing he had done in primary school was long out of his mind, and Hogwarts did not teach students how to properly form professional essays or letters. It was really a guess and check; in other words, write an essay for a class and see what the teacher had to say about the writing. Besides this fact, Harry had never accepted a job offer before. He was not exactly sure what words were considered suitable when speaking to a future employer. Even though Harry had known Albus Dumbledore for a long time, the man was to be his superior now; things were not the same as when Harry was a boy and Dumbledore his headmaster.

_It shouldn't be this hard, _Harry told himself. _All I need to say is, 'Hey, Harry Potter here. I'm going to take the position for DADA professor.'_

Looking down at his blank piece of parchment, he decided to just go for it and write a simple message. Dumbledore would forgive him if the letter was not perfect.

Penning the letter in the most decent handwriting he could muster, Harry came up with a simple note:

_Albus,_

_I'm going to take the position for Defense this year. Is there anything else I need to know?_

_-Harry_

The young man sighed as he looked over his words. Though he was coming to terms with the fact that he would be a professor, it was still a hard thing to believe at times. He did not feel as if he was old enough to scribe the sort of message that he had. Was he not just a seventeen-year-old boy, who had passed through a whirlwind of classes (whose subjects more than occasionally soared over his head) with just adequate effort? Adequate enough to scrape good grades, riding on poor homework marks and surprisingly great exam scores to save his arse and gift him a grade worthy of an Auror application? Then again, he did not get an Auror position, so he could not say his grades were Auror-worthy. The point was, though, that Harry felt a professor had a definite scholarly personality: a person who was at the top of his or her class, a person who strived to learn and not just be lectured. Hermione would be the model teacher of their age, Harry thought. She loved to teach others. Harry liked showing others what he knew, but he felt that his friend had more passion in that area.

He could not help but feel excited at the offer, though; he would be doing something he had not really done before (though some would argue that the DA was similar enough to his offer that he had experience). Besides that, he would be able to peruse the Hogwarts library for books on Peverell.

Giving his letter a last look, he folded it and sent it off with Hedwig.

* * *

Dumbledore sent a letter to Harry the next week, replying to Harry's message. His letter gave him a lot of information on the upcoming school year that continued to soar closer to him. Included in the letter was a list of important dates for meetings and moving in, as well as a suggested list of items to bring while staying in the teachers' quarters. Albus also gave Harry a description of his living quarters, which was on the third floor, overlooking the Black Lake.

Albus was kind enough to include some advice on teaching. He wrote to Harry that teachers have a hard time knowing what to do in many situations in their first year of teaching; punishment is hard to administer and respect is not always learned until the years after the beginning year. The most important thing to do, he said, is to persevere, and have fun.

He also included a list of topics to cover each year, though he said the list was only a suggestion. The exercises and individual assignments were up to Harry. Included was a grading scale for the assignments and tests, and a formula for an optional grading curve. Harry was grateful for the information, as he did not think he could create all of his lessons alone, without a loose outline.

In addition, Dumbledore included a book entitled _First Year Professorship: What You Need to Know_. The back of the book insisted that the chapters laid out many great tips for a first-time teacher.

Dumbledore told Harry in his letter that all teachers were to arrive at Hogwarts on 28 August, to move in and get things in order for the term. The first day of term was, of course, the first of September, which gave Harry about three and a half days to get comfortable in his new home.

* * *

Harry's birthday came and went rather quietly, with a small gathering at the Weasley household.

Most of the gifts the ink-haired man received were to be used in his teaching job, which Harry found very thoughtful. Ron gave Harry a quill that was charmed to hide messages and instead show lines from fairytales to the reader. He told Harry that it could be useful for answer keys that students would wish to see. Hermione gave Harry a Sneakoscope, explaining to Harry that he needed to start a collection of Dark detectors in his office now. Molly and Arthur gave him a new set of robes, tailored to fit him perfectly and tastefully lined in silver. The twins gave Harry box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder packs. Bill and Charlie told Harry that they had gifts for him, but they would not arrive for a few weeks, so he was to expect them to be delivered by owl.

Remus gave Harry his old notes from when he had taught at Hogwarts. "It's not much, and you won't want to use them for everything," he explained, "but it'll get you started." Harry was definitely grateful for the gift.

Dumbledore had stopped by, giving Harry a beautiful ink wash painting of a winter scene in mountains. He told Harry he could hang it up in his new living quarters, as the place was not yet decorated.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the summer with Ron and Hermione as much as he could; since he would be at Hogwarts for much of the next ten months, he wanted to see them as much as possible before he left. They could get together during Hogsmeade weekends, but Harry could not see them any other time, really. He would be busy, and he was sure they would be too.

His two friends helped him choose the things he would bring to Hogwarts, and helped him shop for the items he did not already have. Hermione also helped Harry write his curriculum for the seven different years, Ron helping occasionally by mentioning interesting spells he had encountered in his Auror profession. Harry found himself ready for the school year with much less stress than he had expected. He purchased a new, larger trunk, a few extra sets of robes for teaching, and bought a few casual outfits for relaxation; then, he had everything he needed. He had two weeks before he was to arrive at Hogwarts, and all he had to do was pack his belongings.

He spent his remaining two weeks out and about, frequenting Diagon Alley and Muggle London. The weather outside was pleasant for most of the fourteen days, which gave Harry a chance to enjoy the outdoors. He read the book Dumbledore sent him from cover to cover, and reread several chapters. It was very helpful; it gave him an idea on how to address his class and what to do in certain situations.

He was not sure if it was a surprise to him or not to run into Voldemort again, a handful of days before he was to go to Hogwarts. It was at the Leaky Cauldron, as it had been the other times, and Harry once again found no one reacting to the presence of the powerful lord.

"Potter," Riddle acknowledged with a nod. Harry's eyes shot up at the sign of respect, but other than that he had no reaction besides mild wariness.

"Tom," Harry greeted.

"So, you are leaving for Hogwarts at the end of the week," Riddle stated. Harry narrowed his eyes, unsure of how Voldemort would know that.

"Yes," He answered slowly. "How do you know that?"

"I know many things," The older man told him with a haughty look. "Someday, you may learn how."

Harry sighed. He expected an answer like that.

"I've a gift for you," Tom continued. Harry's eyebrows shot up to his hairline at that.

"Oh?" He questioned, trying to keep his voice normal.

"It will help you, I believe." Tom pulled a bundle out of his robes, tapped it with his wand, and offered the now normal-sized item to Harry. It was the size of a loaf of bread. "Do not open it here."

Harry took it with some hesitance, but nevertheless shrunk it and placed it in his own robes.

"Thank you," He said to Voldemort as politely as he could.

The dark wizard nodded. "I expect you to write me occasionally whilst at Hogwarts," he told Harry. "Or at least read the letters I will send you."

Harry cleared his throat. "Sorry, but why should I do that?"

Tom's lips twitched in annoyance. "I would like to know what is happening there, Harry. And I am sure you would like to know what I am up to, yes?"

"But why would I tell you what's happening?" Harry asked. "Why should I trust you with that sort of information?"

"You do trust me, Harry." Tom gave him a long, calculating look. "I suppose you do not know it yet, but you do."

"How do you know that?!" Harry burst. People from surrounding tables turned to look at him.

Voldemort gave him a piercing look. "Keep it down. And I will tell you in due time."

Harry sighed, exasperated, and blew up at his fringe. "Whatever. Thanks for the gift. I have to go now." He did not, really, but he wanted to leave the man before either did something violent.

Rising out of his chair, he gave a short wave to Riddle and left the restaurant. The Dark Lord did nothing to stop him.

* * *

The remaining five days went quickly, and Harry found himself apparating to Hogsmeade and walking to the tall, iron gates of Hogwarts. His instructions, according to Dumbledore's letter, were to stand at the gates and send forth his Patronus. Then, McGonagall would come to open the gate for him.

Thinking of the time he first read his Hogwarts letter, he said _'Expecto Patronum' _in a clear, strong voice; a beautiful, majestic stag appeared from the tip of his wand. With Harry's instruction to go to the Entrance Hall, the silvery animal floated towards the large castle in front of him.

Minutes later, a figure was seen walking towards Harry, and he eventually made out the features of his former head of house, Minerva McGonagall. She was dressed in her traditional green robes, and had a smile adorning her face as she approached her past student.

"Potter, good to see you've made it in one piece," She said to him. Harry smiled at her in greeting. The witch muttered a few long phrases that Harry did not catch, and the gates opened with a large _creak_.

Harry followed her up the winding path to the castle, gazing fondly upon the green grounds.

"Did you miss it?" Minerva asked him.

"Yes," Harry answered honestly. "It feels like ages since I've been here. I haven't even really done anything since then, but I feel like I haven't been here in a lifetime."

Minerva nodded in understanding. "I know the feeling."

The two walked into the castle, heading up to the third floor. "I will take you to your quarters to set your things in there," McGonagall told Harry, "and then we'll go to the staff meeting. There's a supper afterward in the Great Hall."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, excited for the coming events.

* * *

Notes:

This chapter was going to be longer, but I wanted it out as soon as possible, since it's been almost a month since I posted.

I hope you like it- tell me if you do or don't in a review, please!

Happy holidays to everyone!


	8. The Library's Findings

Title: Ink

Chapter 8: The Library's Findings

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: None this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: I hope everyone has had a great holiday. This chapter, hopefully, will also be great.

It isn't as long as I was hoping, but it is still longer than the previous chapter.

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_The two walked into the castle, heading up to the third floor. "I will take you to your quarters to set your things in there," McGonagall told Harry, "and then we'll go to the staff meeting. There's a supper afterward in the Great Hall."_

_Harry nodded in acknowledgement, excited for the coming events._

* * *

Harry walked with Minerva up the white, marble stairs, travelling to the third floor; and as they continued, he found himself drinking in the sights around him, as if he had never witnessed it before. Every corner, nook and cranny lay before his eyes and he soaked every last bit of it in. The portraits, the stone walls and floors, the moving staircases- they all felt brand new. He felt as if he was a first year again, walking through the castle for the very first time. Harry was happy to feel this; he was afraid he would get used to, or bored of, Hogwarts- having been there for seven years of his life. It seemed, however, that the sights of the beautiful building could never become plain in his eyes. _Remember, too_, he reminded himself, _you're a teacher now- you can see things you were never able to see before. No curfews, no places off limits…_ Harry could not stop himself from smiling at everything. The situation, his thoughts on what could possibly transpire… it was his dream come true. _Hogwarts really is my home,_ Harry thought with a grin.

Minerva led the way down the third floor corridor, as Harry did not know quite where his living quarters were. They stopped in front of a large portrait with a short young man inhabiting the animated canvas. He wore typical children's clothing: a plaid, button-down shirt that had smudges of dirt littered across the chest and sleeves; this, accompanied by cropped brown pants, black shoes and a grey hat, completed the look of a child who enjoyed playing outside.

"Harry, this is the portrait entrance to your room," Minerva told him. "This young lad's name is Quinn. He will let you in if you give the right password, which you can set now."

"Er…" Harry fumbled around his brain for a good password.

"Something people won't be able to guess easily," McGonagall reminded.

"How about… mallard?" He had observed some mallard ducks at a pond near his apartment recently, which was the only reason he picked it, besides the fact that no one would expect that password for Harry.

Quinn, his entrance guard, nodded and tipped his hat.

Minerva turned to Harry. "Now, even if another person gets your password, he or she will not be able to enter without previous permission. For example, if you want Ms. Weasley to stop by, you must let Quinn know she can enter, or else she will not be permitted to pass through."

"Alright," Harry said. "So I just tell the portrait someone wants to come over, so let them in?"

"Yes. And it can be a one-time thing, so a person can come over once but will not be able to enter again unaided, or it can be a continuous thing."

Harry nodded in understanding. "That makes sense. Thank you."

"No problem, Harry. So, let's go into your rooms, yes?" Harry nodded.

After Minerva continued to look at him expectantly, Harry muttered 'mallard' and walked through the now open portrait hole.

The setup for Harry's quarters was a simple but good one; the room entered through the portrait hole was a sitting room of sorts, with a limited kitchen to the left. The kitchen had a small table and chairs, cabinets for dishes, and a sink. The sitting room had grey walls and black furniture, with two love seats and a reclining chair. There was an empty bookshelf lining the wall nearest to the exit, and a fireplace on the right-side wall. The wall furthest from the portrait hole had three large windows, with black curtains drawn to the sides. After walking into the room more, Harry discovered two more rooms connected to the sitting room: a bathroom and a bedroom. Both rooms were themed in the same grey and black theme. The bedroom had another large window. It had a queen sized bed and a dresser, as well as a closet. Harry liked the minimalistic look, as there was not a lot in the room, but he was not sure if he liked the constant dark color.

"The colors can be changed, if you don't wish to be gloomy all the time," Minerva told Harry with a knowing look.

Harry smiled at her. "Thanks. This looks great."

Minerva nodded. "Well, if you would set your things in your quarters, we must be heading to the lounge for our meeting."

Harry grabbed his shrunken items from his pockets and returned them to normal size with a tap of his wand, setting them on his bed. He would unpack after the meeting and supper, as well as open his present from Tom. He had decided to wait until he got to Hogwarts to open the gift; that way, if anything happened to him from the present, there would be witnesses, or at least people to notice something awry.

He was still rather annoyed that Voldemort said that he trusted him. Harry trusting Voldemort seemed like the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. And the Dark Lord had said, _"You do trust me, Harry… I suppose you do not know it yet, but you do." _How would Voldemort know about Harry's trust, and with whom he placed it?

Harry shook his head a little, pushing his thoughts of Voldemort to the side. Now was not the time for that. Harry and McGonagall left Harry's new home and walked to a place Harry had only seen once before- the teacher's lounge. It felt weird, and almost wrong, to be travelling to the lounge.

_I suppose I should get used to seeing it, though, _Harry told himself. _I'll be in here a lot now._

It was not too long until the two reached the door to the teacher's lounge. Minerva said the password, 'knowledge,' and they walked in.

"Usually, the teachers would not say the password so loudly," She told Harry as they walked through the room, "but there are only teachers in the castle now. And we change the password before term starts."

The setup of tables made it look like a square with one missing side, and all of the chairs were on the outside of the incomplete square. It looked as if most of the professors were already there and seated; they were chatting with their neighbors, talking of their summer breaks, Harry was sure. Dumbledore was not there yet.

"Can we sit anywhere?" Harry asked.

"For the most part, yes," Minerva answered. "Dumbledore takes the middle seat in the middle of the tables. That way, everyone can see him. Any other seat is open to all professors, though some prefer to take the same seat every time if it is not already occupied."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense." He walked over to an empty seat and plopped himself down in it, observing the others seated in the room. No one had looked up when he and McGonagall had walked into the room, so the brunet figured they did not know he was there yet. McGonagall sat next to him.

"We'll be starting in five minutes," she commented, looking at the papers in front of her. Harry looked down at the stretch of table in front of him and noticed that there were papers in front of him as well.

"Albus will be going over these with everyone," the witch told Harry upon seeing his look of confusion. "It's mostly rules and deadlines."

Harry refrained from looking over the papers before Dumbledore came; he did not want to read over them twice. He instead kept his attention on the room around him, looking at the professors seated near him. A few teachers filed in after Harry and Minerva had, rushing to their seat with their heads down. Though they were on time, Harry supposed it was preferred to not arrive last, which was why they were hurrying. They still had time, though, as the headmaster had not walked in yet.

It did not take long for Albus to arrive at the teacher's lounge, looking dashing in a set of silver and purple robes and a matching hat. He walked to his designated spot, eyes surveying the room. He winked at Harry as he passed by.

"Good afternoon," Albus greeted the group of professors before him, "And welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Today we are having a meeting to orient the new teachers, and reorient the old ones."

The meeting had officially started. Dumbledore introduced all of the teachers as if they were new, and made sure to say a little anecdote for each of them. Most of the professors seemed to be used to it, though many gave a grimace as he did so. When Harry was introduced, many of the teachers looked quite surprised, further showing the brunet that no one else had known of his hiring. He received many happy nods, and even a small applause, when Dumbledore finished Harry's introduction. Albus then went through each and every point on the handouts, highlighting Hogsmeade visits, due dates for grades each semester and when holidays start. He read a list of topics to be covered each meeting and explained various policies regarding student-teacher relationships, punishment and bullying. A map of Hogwarts was also included, and Albus mentioned every exit in the castle and on castle grounds. It was all very thorough, and although it felt as if it took hours, it was rather exciting; hearing all of the official rules and guidelines meant he was really here, at Hogwarts, as a teacher. He would be in front of children in a short while, telling them what he knew. It was all rather crazy.

* * *

After the meeting, most of the teachers headed toward the Great Hall to eat dinner, though Harry noticed a few headed the opposite way. _They must be the antisocial ones, _Harry thought to himself. _I always thought Snape was the only one who didn't like people. _He did, of course, see Severus Snape stalk quickly toward the dungeon at the conclusion of the meeting. Snape had not talked to him yet, or even look at him, from what Harry could tell; he was dreading the moment he would, though. He was, more or less, Snape's equal now, at least in profession, but Harry did not think that would stop them from disliking each other.

Harry stayed close to McGonagall, not wanting to socialize much with the rest of the crowd. He figured he had plenty of time to do that. He did make sure to acknowledge the greetings of Professors Sprout and Flitwick, though, who had made a point of getting his attention and sending a hearty wave. Hagrid had also greeted him quite happily, giving Harry a bone-crushing hug and a large pat on the back.

Though the number of people in the Great Hall was greatly smaller than usual, the hall was filled with noise. The professors seemed very happy to speak with one another, and made sure to voice their matters and opinions loudly, so they could speak over each other. Harry had always thought teachers had just worked alongside one another; he had never really thought about the possibility of them being friends. _It makes sense,_ Harry thought. _They're around each other more than anyone else._

Dinner ended with the teachers heading to their living quarters; many had to unpack yet, including Harry. Harry also was itching to open the present given to him by the Dark Lord. He figured he had waited long enough.

After arriving at his quarters, he headed straight for his bedroom and to the bundle laying innocently in the center of his bed.

The bundle was not heavy; it weighed as much as a coat or small blanket. Harry took a deep breath and slowly opened the unsuspecting bundle, closing his eyes in anticipation. Once unwrapped, Harry waited a few seconds for anything to happen before opening his eyes, only to narrow them in confusion. The bundle appeared to have held a large amount of black cloth, and a folded note. Opening the note, Harry read:

_Harry,_

_These are curtains made by the vampires in Romania- they are good at keeping out light, as well as anything magical, spells or otherwise. Nothing can penetrate them. You may find these useful._

_-T._

Harry, shocked, examined the cloth before him once more. They were indeed curtains, and they were a silky material that gave off a nice aesthetic appeal. They looked somewhat like the black curtains that existed already in his rooms, but they felt softer and gave off a shimmery look in a certain light. Harry decided he would place them in his bedroom, for better privacy during his sleep. He briefly wondered if Tom had actually just sent him some plain old curtains that had no special properties, but dispelled that thought quickly. The curtains felt different, like they had some sort of magical properties, and Harry did not think the Dark Lord would bother giving Harry something as simple as normal cloth.

Harry made a mental note to thank Tom for the interesting gift next time they met. He was sure it would not be too long from now.

The ink-haired man unpacked his things and placed them in his dresser and closet, besides the decorations he had brought from home. He hung his new painting from Dumbledore in his sitting room area, near his fireplace. It worked well with the décor.

Harry then spent a while going through his quarters and changing the dim, grey colors with bright ones. He fashioned his surroundings similar to his flat, though it was not identical. He also started a fire and moved some of the end tables around. Once he was done, Harry happily sunk into his new sofa and drank a steaming cup of tea, looking once again over his curriculum notes for the first week. He wanted to be as prepared as possible, and felt that studying his notes would help at least a little.

A few minutes passed before a thought suddenly came to Harry: he could visit the library now! It was on the very floor Harry lived on, now, and he had plenty of time before the library closed to look through the shelves for any books regarding Peverell. He was fully able to visit every section of the library, and he could use that privilege at any time- why not now?

Harry leapt up quickly and shoved his shoes on his feet before pulling on an outer robe and heading out of his quarters and down the corridor, toward the library. He slowed his pace once out the door, as he did not want passerby noticing he was in such a hurry. It would not look good for Harry Potter, a known "troublemaker," to be running down the corridor the first day back at Hogwarts.

He made it quickly enough, walking into the large room minutes after leaving the portrait hole. It was just as he remembered it: practically endless amounts of books lining countless shelves, with many study tables littering the red-carpeted floor. There was a staircase on both sides of the room, leading to a balcony filled with more books and tables. The smell of old books and musty carpet wafted toward him, bringing Harry's eyes back to focus on why exactly he was here. His eyes rested on the first destination he was to reach: Irma Pince's desk. She was currently seated behind it, watching him warily as he took his time surveying the room. Making a decision to go to the Restricted Section first, Harry walked to Pince and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Er… hi."

Pince's eyebrows furrowed in greeting.

"I'd like to go to the Restricted Section. Since I'm a teacher… I can do that, right?"

Pince nodded. "You still must check out any books you take, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and thanked her before walking quickly to the Restricted Section, excited at the prospect of finding the books he was looking for. Pince watched him go with narrowed eyes, as if daring him to do anything out of line to her books.

He entered the area quickly, and, remembering the books were categorized by subject and then by title, started looking through each category-shelf, beginning with the shelf closest to him. He was not quite sure what he was looking for, however, as he did not know what kind of man Peverell was; would he be featured in a potions book, or a history of magic book? He continued to search for a while before getting frustrated. Opening each book and skimming through the contents and index would take him days, and he did not want to spend that much time in the library.

Harry then remembered that there was a librarian fully qualified and knowledgeable of Hogwarts' books only forty feet away from him, and he almost kicked himself at his idiocy. He could just ask her; surely she would know better than he where the books would be.

Walking to the desk once again, Harry scratched his head. "Madame Pince, I'm looking for books on a guy named Ignotus Peverell. Can you help me?"

Pince narrowed her eyes at him, for reasons unknown, and looked down at her magical registry catalog. Harry was not sure what she did to it, but after a tap with her wand and a few muttered words Harry did not catch, she set it down and left her desk, gesturing for Harry to follow her. She led him to a corner in the Restricted Section that Harry had not managed to reach yet, and she pulled out a small, leather-bound book. Harry would never had guessed the book held what he asked for, but when she handed it to Harry, he read the title: _The True Accountings of the Late Ignotus Peverell. _It was exactly what he was looking for.

Harry's mind practically erupted with joy from the prospect of finding the book. It had not taken much time at all to find what he was looking for.

Pince cleared her throat. "Will you be checking this out, then?"

Harry enthusiastically nodded, and practically shoved the book in the librarian's arms. Once Pince had everything in order, Harry was on his way back to his quarters. He made it back very quickly, though he had to say the password a few times for his portrait to let him in, as he was saying it so rapidly.

Entering his rooms, he threw himself on the sofa and stared at his treasure for a minute or two, examining the outside of the book. It was a simple, leather-bound book that looked like it could have been a journal if it did not have the title it sported. The golden letters on the front of the book were etched into the leather in an older looking script, though it was English, Harry could tell. There was no mention of an author on the outside of the book. Harry wondered briefly if it was an autobiography, but as it said it was the accountings of the _late _Ignotus Peverell, that would indicate it was published after his death.

Harry reminded himself that Ron and Hermione would want to know about his findings, and penned out a short note for each of them. He said that he had found a book, and that he would show them on the next Hogsmeade trip, which would be two weeks into the new term. He would send the notes out in the morning before breakfast with Hedwig.

Now, however, he wanted to finally learn about the founder of the Potter line, the one who had made his vaults.

Almost shaking in anticipation, he opened the book and began to read.

* * *

Notes:

And, finally, Harry finds something on Ignotus Peverell.

I hope the chapter is to everyone's liking; if not, tell me why in a review. In fact, tell me either way in a review, because I like them.

I am thinking of actually writing a short version of the biography on Peverell and posting it on here, but as a separate story- that way, if people want to know about _my _Peverell (with my facts that tie in with _Ink_), they can, and if not they do not have to read it. It may be interesting to some. Please let me know in a review.


	9. Disappointment

Title: Ink

Chapter 9: Disappointment

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: I apologize for the delay in this chapter; I had planned on updating sooner than this, but life got in the way. I hope it is to everyone's liking.

And now, for the moment you all have been waiting for: Who is Ignotus Peverell?

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_Harry reminded himself that Ron and Hermione would want to know about his findings, and penned out a short note for each of them. He said that he had found a book, and that he would show them on the next Hogsmeade trip, which would be two weeks into the new term. He would send the notes out in the morning before breakfast with Hedwig._

_Now, however, he wanted to finally learn about the founder of the Potter line, the one who had made his vaults._

_Almost shaking in anticipation, he opened the book and began to read._

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed when laying his eyes on the work in front of him was that the writing was by hand. Though legible, and indeed in English, the handwriting gave off an impression that it was written in times long past. The letters were readable, however, and that was the most important part. The pages were thick and a slightly yellowed tint; the ink was as black as night.

The first page had the usual notes speaking of when the book was written and published, as most books do. Harry noted the year 1601, written clearly in the middle of the page, as the year the book was published. The page also indicated that the book was published in London. The page opposite had three segments of writing: the first stated, simply,

_For Ignotus, as he wished it to be._

The second,

_Let it be known that I, the author of this biography, am not writing this in a false manner in regards to the subject of one Ignotus Peverell's life. The accounts that I give are true to the first and reliable degree, so swear on my magic and my life._

Harry looked on the front and back cover again for the author's name, but found none. He then laid his eyes on the third section of words on the page. The sentence was simple enough:

There shall be no copies of this work.

For some unknown reason, Harry felt a shiver travel down his spine as he processed the words. It was as if there was a heavy weight, or force, entering his body through his eyes as he drank the words in. Blinking, Harry tried to shake off the strange feeling he encountered. Slowly, the sensation subsided. Harry was not sure what had just occurred, but he was more interested in what was to occur once he learned about Peverell.

Harry sighed, breaking his concentration as he cast a _tempus _silently and checked the time. It was not terribly late. He had no plans for the coming days before term started, besides examining his office and classroom. He could stay up as late as he needed.

Shifting into the corner of his couch, Harry made himself comfortable as he turned the thick page of his book. Once turned, Harry hungrily drank in the sight before him- only to realize the page had no marks to see. It was blank. Turning the next page, he came across the same thing; the page held no visible writing, or anything at all. It was as if it had never been touched.

"What the hell?" Harry muttered as he quickly paged through the rest of the journal, finding only blank pages throughout.

Confused and very frustrated, the brunet looked through the book again hurriedly. He started from the back, middle, and spaces in between. He turned the book upside down. He tapped it with is wand. No matter what he did, nothing would make any words appear in the book he had thought to be the answer to his questions.

_What the fuck do I do now?_ Harry asked himself angrily as he dropped the book onto the table in front of him harshly. _It's useless. This book is utter rubbish to me. _He ran his hands through his messy hair, frustrated beyond belief. _I come to Hogwarts, thinking I'll find the answers I'm looking for, and all I get is a tease of what I want._

Stewing in his anger and frustration, Harry felt very much like the student he was not long ago, in the giant, intimidating castle he had learned to both like and dislike. He had tried to do his homework, only to come up short with no obvious alternative. Though there was no true consequence for not finding his answer, it filled Harry with deep disappointment. He had been sure Hogwarts would have the answer to his questions- as it had so often before- and he was let down.

Looking around his living room dully, Harry's eyes fell upon the two letters he had written to Ron and Hermione. _I suppose those aren't necessary now, _he thought to himself bitterly. _Though I should tell them about my findings, even if it wasn't what I was looking for. They might have an explanation._

Harry got rid of the two letters and wrote two new ones, explaining what he had found and what was missing. Once done, Harry went back to staring at his book.

What confused him the most was the fact that it had the beginning parts of a legitimate writing. It had a date that it was written, a dedication, even a publishing city. And yet, it had nothing following it. It was as if someone had erased it.

_Maybe Hogwarts censors things, _Harry thought. _Maybe it has something really nasty in it so they left out the writing, but left the book there for cataloguing reasons. _Harry had never heard of the school editing books for content, but he did not know much about earlier headmasters and their habits on education.

_Hermione should surely know about that, _Harry decided. _She'll let me know what I need to._

With nothing left for which to stay awake, the young man decided that slumber was to be had. Silently cursing the substandard book laying on his table, he stalked into his bedroom and fell into a deep sleep, with fleeting dreams of laughing books and blank faces.

* * *

The next morning, Harry rose before the sun came over the horizon. He did not feel the need to sleep in, and he felt that sending his letters earlier would be better than later. He traveled to the Owlery and gave his letters to Hedwig before heading back to his quarters. He waited there for a while until breakfast had started, and went to the Great Hall. He was not the first person there, though it looked as if he was not the last. The other professors were talking quietly amongst themselves; nevertheless, many halted their conversation to gaze upon Harry before resuming.

Scanning the head table, Harry saw an empty chair next to his friend and fellow professor, Hagrid. He had not given much time to talking with the half-giant yet.

"Good morning, Hagrid," Harry greeted as he slid into his seat. Hagrid beamed at him and returned the salutation.

"Having a good stay so far?" Hagrid asked him in his usual, choppy vernacular. Harry had not realized he missed the large man's speech until he registered it.

"Yes," Harry replied as he filled his plate with the surrounding dishes. "My rooms are really nice."

"Have you seen your teaching rooms?"

Harry, realizing he had not yet, answered, "No," while making a mental reminder to do just that. "I will today, though."

"Good plan," Hagrid told him, "you want to be comfortable with your teaching space before the kids come in; they can make teaching pretty hard enough, see?"

Harry nodded with a smile, agreeing with him. He had been, after all, a student not long ago; he knew how much trouble students could give their professors if they so pleased.

"What lessons are you starting with this year?" Harry asked his friend. He had always enjoyed Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class; the animals were often very interesting.

Hagrid answered, "Well, I figured I'd start them off with something small, you know, to get them used to the class. Crups, Kneazles, and the like; then we'll start on the bigger stuff, like Thestrals and Hippogriffs."

"That sounds like a good way to do it," Harry agreed. He was planning on doing the same thing with his class- start small, and grow in intensity until the more powerful spells were introduced.

* * *

After breakfast, Harry headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It was locked, but he had been equipped with the key the night before, in his rooms.

When he entered, he noticed the room looked very bare; he supposed the previous teacher had taken all of his stuff out when he left. Harry realized he did not have anything to add to the room, and, walking between the desks, wished it could resemble the room used for the DA meetings. He did have some books he could place in the empty bookshelves, and he could add some curtains to brighten the dingy room up, but he did not have anything interesting to add. _I could bring in some cushions, _Harry thought to himself, _when the students do practical work._ He also decided to purchase a few instruments relating to Dark Arts defense, to make the room a little more interesting. He could visit Hogsmeade later in the day to find things for his classroom.

Running his fingers along the desk nearest to him, Harry noticed the surface was full of dust, hiding the many cracks and ink stains it held. Muttering _scourgify_, Harry cleaned the dust off of the desks with a few flicks of his wand. The room looked surprisingly better afterward.

Once finished with his examination of the classroom, Harry headed to the back of the room and to the office door. It was locked as well; Harry had the correct key, though, so it was no problem getting the thick, heavy door open.

The office was very plain, and barer than Harry had ever seen it. It had a large, dark desk with a chair accompanying it; a large window with grey curtains obscuring the outside view; and a couple empty bookshelves. Harry reminded himself that he had many books he could put in those shelves; his vaults housed many tomes he was interested to read, and he was sure some of them would be Defense related. He could take the copies to the school.

He could also put his new Sneakoscope in his office; he had no other place to put it, really, and it could come in handy during the term. He could even mention it in one of his classes.

Harry placed Remus' old Defense notes on the table, along with his charmed quill from Ron. He noticed the nameplate on the desk read _Professor H. Potter_, making Harry shake his head at the professionalism shown for him. He did not think it fit him, yet.

* * *

After looking at his new classroom and office, Harry decided to make a visit to Hogsmeade. He debated going through the hidden passageway he had used when he was younger, but figured that, as a teacher, it would look better if he walked the more well-known route.

The walk did not take long, and it gave Harry time to decide what he was going to look for: things to fill his classroom and office. He would buy some cushions, lots of parchment and extra quills, and some interesting knick-knacks to place around the rooms.

He found the cushions rather quickly, spotting a shop right off High Street that was having a sale on bedding. After shrinking the new cushions and putting them in his robes, he walked along the High Street until he found Dervish & Banges, a shop that sells magical instruments. Walking through the store, Harry found many interesting and useful things to purchase, and all of them were in his price range. Among them, most notable was a device that, when tapped with a wand, could detect lies. It changed different colors according to the validity of the speaker's statement. Another handy item Harry found was an orb that, within a certain radius, could detect people under invisibility spells and cloaks- one could even see the person if he or she looked into the orb.

Once done with the instrument shop, Harry wandered down a side street and found a store that sold various decorations and miscellaneous odds and ends. It had many interesting looking things including tapestries, various bookends of different sizes and shapes, miniature sets of magical creatures (that actually moved), strange pictures of both scenes and people, and other things Harry did not get a chance to look at. He bought quite a few items: a few tapestries of wizards and witches dueling, a few miniature creature sets, cauldron bookends, and a few targets.

Harry was happy with his purchases, and found enjoyment in placing the items around his classroom. Once he put all of the instruments and various decorations in the room, it looked a lot more lively and interesting. He added the books he had brought from home, and it looked as though a teacher actually used the room.

Once Harry made it back to his room, it was almost time for dinner. There were two letters on his living room table, each with his name written on the front; Harry recognized the handwriting as Ron and Hermione's. _The house-elves must've brought them here for me,_ Harry figured.

Ron's response to Harry's blank-book finding was as indignant and frustrated as his own; the redhead wanted to know about Peverell just like him. He told Harry they could meet the next weekend to talk about the book, and that Hermione could come too.

Hermione's response was basically the same thing; Harry figured they talked about it over Floo or by owl before responding.

Unfortunately, neither of the two had any guesses as to why the book was blank; or, at least, they did not write about it. With the promise that they both would see Harry the upcoming weekend, though, Harry had hopes that they would figure it out together.

* * *

Notes:

Not exactly what people were hoping, I guess. It will all work out in the end, though.

Please send me a review so I know how I'm doing. I really appreciate it.


	10. The Start of Term

Title: Ink

Chapter 10: The Start of Term

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Nothing, really.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: From here on, things will start to fall into place as far as the storyline goes. The chapters before this were more or less an introduction, to set the scene. I still plan on keeping the story relatively slow moving, but there will be less filler scenes and more important plot scenes.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

I capitalized 'House' anytime I was referring to the four Houses- I don't know if this is considered normal or common in Harry Potter fanfiction, but I think it looks better.

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_Unfortunately, neither of the two had any guesses as to why the book was blank; or, at least, they did not write about it. With the promise that they both would see Harry the upcoming weekend, though, Harry had hopes that they would figure it out together._

* * *

The day was finally here.

It was an ordinary day, as far as weather went; the sky was littered with large, fluffy clouds and the air was pleasantly cool. The day in the minds of the Hogwarts teachers, however, was not as simple and easygoing. Today was the first day of term. This day saw the students' entry into the castle, both old and new. Classes would start on the next weekday, and teachers would be off on a train they could not leave until the end of the year. Some greeted this expectation with an easy smile, as they had no reason to worry; they were comfortable in their position and would usher the students with open arms. Others were not as enthusiastic.

Harry found himself somewhere in the middle in that aspect. He was ultimately more excited than anything, but he did feel nervous to be in front of his students so soon (even though he had been anticipating this date for ages), and felt more than a little disappointed with his findings on Peverell. _Lack thereof, _Harry corrected himself, _Lack of findings. I'm so close, yet so far away from the answer._

The upcoming weekend would find Harry in Hogsmeade with his two friends to solve the mystery, so he did not worry too much about the book. He made an effort to polish his lesson plans for the upcoming weeks, and examined his classroom from every angle to improve its atmosphere as much as possible; this way, he was using his time properly, instead of obsessing over the blank book resting upon his coffee table.

The morning quickly transitioned into afternoon, and Harry could almost feel the castle bracing herself for the flow of students. Upon his strolls through the castle's corridors, Harry saw many teachers hurrying through the hallways, finishing the last of their agendas before their time would be whisked away by the children. Harry tried his best to stay calm throughout the time he spent before the feast, as he did not want to stress himself. To him, calm was a better way to prepare than to run around frantically.

After what felt like a blink of an eye, it was time to head to the feast. Harry put on his nicest robes with a tie underneath, and combed his hair (not that it made any difference). He wore his shiniest shoes and his teeth were brushed twice. Feeling as ready as ever, the ink-haired professor exited his rooms and headed to the Great Hall.

Stepping through the threshold of the giant oak doors, Harry was thrown into a memory he would never forget. He, as an eleven-year-old boy, only recently introduced into the incredible world of magic, walked through that same threshold for the first time, and it was awe-inspiring. The walls of stone were tall and mighty, littered with giant sconces full of flames. Tapestries of red, green, yellow and blue, the size of giant bedspreads, hung from the ceiling that reflected the starry night sky. Four long tables with glinting gold plates and shiny silver cutlery were placed through the room, parallel to eachother but perpendicular to the large table in the front of the hall. In front of that table lay a throne-like chair, adorned with sparkling gems and fancy upholstery. It was beautiful, and it was surprisingly real.

The hall was the same as it always was for the Start of Term Feast, and for that Harry was thankful; he could once again enjoy the feeling of returning home.

* * *

Harry seated himself in the traditional position for the Defense Against the Dark arts teacher. There was no official, strict rule to sit in a specific spot, but the professors had their traditions when it came to seats at the Head Table. Harry did not mind. He sat between Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, which did not bother him a bit.

The teachers chatted amongst themselves as the time drew nearer until the students would come. It was not long before the older students, second year and up, entered through the great double doors of the hall and sat at their respective tables. Many were talking loudly and excitedly to their friends, catching up from their break away from each other; others looked very tired from the long train ride.

Harry heard Sprout mutter, "And we're off," and he thought that was a good way to put it. The next term would be like a fast paced race, with a whirl of movement around a track that seems never ending. Harry was up to the task, though.

Shortly after the students got comfortable, McGonagall was sent to fetch the first year students- the terrified, anxious students, many who had no idea what was going to happen. Harry knew exactly how they felt.

They filed in, two by two, and they looked as if they were marching to their death. They would soon realize the outcome was much more enjoyable, Harry knew. They would laugh at their reactions to the Sorting Ceremony, how silly they were to think they might be kicked out, or that they would have to prove themselves to get in.

The Sorting Hat sat in front of the group of nervous first years, the only visible obstacle between the new students and their House. It appeared to be surveying the young boys and girls, and Harry wondered if it was able to truly think, or if it was simply able to follow certain commands, like a computer.

As the chattering quieted down throughout the room, the old hat opened its tattered "mouth" and began to sing.

It was a relatively happy song this year, with only a few suggestions of darkness in the wizarding world. Harry supposed it was because the last couple years had truly been quiet, as far as Voldemort was concerned. Harry guessed the Hat got most of its information from Dumbledore, and as Dumbledore had not been actively pursuing the Dark Lord himself, the Hat would find no reason to alarm the students.

Once the lengthy song was over and the Hat was silent, Minerva began calling the students to the stool, one by one. Harry guessed that there were about fifty students to be sorted, which was more than his graduating class.

They were sorted rather evenly, Harry noted, though Slytherin and Ravenclaw received a few more students than Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. _Voldemort will be pleased,_ Harry thought with a smirk. _He has more minions to choose from now._

The ceremony went rather quickly, from what Harry could tell, or maybe he just was not paying attention as much. Either way, the students were sorted and it was time for Headmaster Dumbledore to say his piece.

"Good evening," Dumbledore started, "And welcome to the 1998 term at Hogwarts. For the new students, welcome, and for the returning students, welcome back." He paused and surveyed his pupils. "This year will be a prosperous one, if that is up to me. We will work together to have the simplest, finest year without any knots to smooth over." He went on for a while about rules and regulations before gesturing to his staff.

"These fine wizards and witches you see in front of you will be guiding you through your magical journey, so I suggest you treat them with the utmost respect, as they will surely do to you." He looked at his teachers when he said this, to many eye rolls in response. "We have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year, and that is Professor Potter." He gestured to Harry, who waved to the audience. He received a relatively large applause, though many were also talking to their friends at the mention of him.

"And with that, let us enjoy our Start of Term Feast. Enjoy."

In the blink of an eye, food appeared onto the tables of each House and the staff table. There were gasps and expressions of excitement, for the feast was one to look forward to every year. Harry's mouth watered at all of the choices set in front of him, and filled his plate until it was overflowing. He noticed his neighbors doing the same, so he did not feel remorse for taking so much.

The meal was enjoyable, with good company and no problems of any sort. The students ate and chatted with their friends, and everyone seemed happy. Harry knew that classes would start the next day, since tomorrow was Wednesday, so the large amounts of food would help the children fall asleep quickly. He remembered many years where he felt as if he barely made it to his bed before falling asleep, with the filling food he had eaten from the feast. Harry hoped it would be the same this time.

Before long, the students were ushered to their common rooms by Prefects, and teachers began to leave to their own rooms. As Harry got ready to leave, himself, Albus approached him.

"Harry, my boy," Albus greeted him, "How are you faring? I'm afraid I have been rather busy in the past few days, and I have not spoken to you."

"I'm doing well," Harry answered, "Everything's great."

"Good, good!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "If you have time before the end of the week, I would very much like it if you stopped by my office for a cup of tea."

Harry agreed, and bid the headmaster goodbye. Albus, of course, let him go with a smile, as he knew the week would be taxing on Harry, even though it was not a full week.

As he walked out of the Great Hall, he saw a splash of bright red hair to his left, and smiled as he saw Ginny Weasley approaching him. He had not seen her since his birthday party, and quite honestly had forgotten he would see her at school.

"Hey, _professor_," Ginny greeted him with a grin.

"Hey, Gin," Harry returned with a matching grin. "How was the train ride?"

"Oh, you know, same old." Ginny flicked some hair over her shoulders and started walking, Harry next to her. "No Malfoy this year, so it was quieter, but there were still some wankers to deal with."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose they never go away, do they?"

Ginny shook her head. "And you'll see all of them throughout the term. How's the classroom? Anything exciting in there?"

"I've found a few things to put in there, but not as much as I want… maybe you'll have to help me find some more things to add." Ginny had a good eye for items to light up a room.

"Yeah, we could go look for stuff at Hogsmeade – it could be a date." Ginny winked at him. They had both shrugged off the small infatuation they had for each other, and they were happy to be friends; though, of course, a joke or two about it was not inappropriate for either of them.

"Sounds smashing," Harry told her, "But I have to get some sleep. Professor stuff to do tomorrow, you know." At that, Harry and Ginny said goodnight and parted ways – Ginny to Gryffindor common room and Harry to his rooms. It was a quick walk back, and when he got there he went to sleep right away, slumber taking only seconds to achieve after his head reached his pillow.

* * *

The next day came very quickly for Harry. The brunet woke up an hour before breakfast started, and he felt as awake as ever. He supposed it was because of the excitement he felt; he could not stay asleep longer than he had to. He took his time showering and dressing, making sure that his appearance was adequate- he wanted to make a good first impression as a teacher. He then headed to the Great Hall, taking his time, since he would most likely be one of the first to arrive.

There were a handful of students and a few teachers already there, though they all looked rather tired. Harry chose the same seat he had the night before, choosing a filling and mostly nutritious breakfast. He did not want to be hungry in the middle of his classes. It did not take long for the rest of the students and teachers to enter the hall, and by 7:15 nearly everyone was seated and eating (1). Professor Sinistra and Hagrid sat next to him, though Sinistra was rather drowsy and silent. Hagrid had much to say, though.

"Excited for the first day?" He asked Harry.

"Yes," Harry answered, cutting a piece of sausage, "Though I'm a little nervous."

Hagrid chuckled. "I'd be surprised if you weren't, Harry. Don't worry; the kids'll love you. You're interesting, and you're Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake!"

Hagrid had a point. The students would know who he was, and many would find it interesting to be taught from the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry could see the four heads of House handing schedules out to their students. Harry had received his schedule a couple days previous. He had classes every day of the week, though not all classes had Defense every day. The seventh years did, and the sixth years had class every day except Wednesday; the first and second years had class Tuesday and Thursday, and the third and fourth years had it Monday, Wednesday and Friday; fifth years had it Wednesday, Thursday and Friday (2). Overall it was not a bad schedule, though slightly busy; Harry knew he would enjoy it, though.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a multitude of owls flying into the Great Hall. He heard many gasps, and shouts of excitement. Harry figured the first day of classes was one of the busiest days for owl post, as many parents sent forgotten items and care packages, as well as letters and occasionally howlers. There were the owls from the Daily Prophet, too, to add into the mix.

There must have been at least two hundred owls flying around the large hall, looking for the recipient of their burden. Harry's musings were cut short at the sight of a large bird, certainly not an owl, swooping through the flock. To his confusion, the animal was flying straight toward him.

_I'm not expecting anything_, Harry thought to himself. _Maybe it's for a teacher near me. _

It was not. The bird swooped to him and landed on his shoulder, its strong talons gripping him in an assertive and dominating manner. Harry slowly turned his head to examine the thing.

It was a beautiful dark brown with black tipped feathers, and its eyes were a dazzling gold. It was the size of at least three owls put together, and it was quite muscular. It had a letter tied to its leg, H. Potter written on the front of it.

"Blimey, Harry, that's a huge bird you've got there," Hagrid exclaimed from his right.

Harry made a noise between agreement and exasperation. He always had to be the one who was involved in strange things. _Why use a normal owl, when there were beasts like these practically made for me? _Harry thought to himself sarcastically.

Harry slowly reached for the letter, not wanting to make any sudden moves. Once the letter was free from the beast, the brunet fed the bird a large piece of his bacon, not wanting to upset it. The bird emitted a low noise from its beak, which Harry assumed meant some sort of approval, and it took off into the air, pushing from Harry's shoulder.

Harry watched the beast go before gazing around the room; he realized he had the attention of most of the students. Some were even pointing at him.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Just a day in the life of Harry Potter," he said to himself and Hagrid.

The ink-haired man then brought his attention back to the letter the beast had brought him. He did not recognize the handwriting, but the ink looked rather expensive. It was in emerald green, almost the color of his eyes, he noted.

Opening the thick parchment, he was greeted with the same green ink, but it was in a different sort of writing, Harry could not quite explain it.

The contents read:

_Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you have settled into your new job with ease. Do not worry about my writing to you, as no one else can read this but us- unless there is another person at Hogwarts who can read written Parseltongue, though I highly doubt that is possible._

At this point, Harry realized that he was reading a letter from the Dark Lord. He supposed he could have guessed, as no one else would have a bird so obnoxious.

_I would like to meet with you this coming Sunday at the Three Broomsticks to discuss a few things, both from your side and mine. We will not stay there, but that is an easy place to seek out a person. Send me back a reply with the time. I will not take no as an answer._

_-T._

Harry's eyebrows rose at the initial, _T_, signed at the bottom of the letter. He had thought that Tom would not have wanted to use his real name, especially if no one else could read it but Harry, anyway. The Dark Lord always seemed to surprise him.

Harry had never heard of Parseltongue as a written language, though he supposed the books written as such would not be very popular, as there were only two known people who could read it.

He wondered what Voldemort wanted to speak with him about, though he did remember the man telling him to report strange goings on in the castle; he did not have anything to report, really, but he did want to mention Peverell's book to him.

He would write a reply to Voldemort after his classes were over; he did not want to worry about it until his first day of teaching was over. He figured the Dark Lord would not be waiting in his Owlery for his reply, anyway; he must have other things to do to keep him busy. _Maybe kicking house elves, or torturing his followers, or something, _Harry thought with a small smirk.

* * *

Breakfast soon was over, and the students who had classes at nine left to get their things. Others loitered in the hallways, in no hurry. Harry had all of his things in his classroom and office already, so he did not need to stop by his rooms for anything. He kept Tom's letter tucked into his inside pocket of his robes, not wanting it away from his person. He did not know what would happen if another person found it, but he did not want to find out.

Unlocking his classroom door, Harry entered and did a last-minute once-over of the room. Students would be filing in anytime now, and he wanted it to look good. His first class was with the third year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, which did not seem too difficult as a first class of the day.

He had just enough time to gather his notes from his office before students came in. It did not take long before the classroom was full; Harry supposed the students tried a little harder to get to class on time in the beginning of term. The students did not speak much; most of them were staring at Harry, waiting for his first move. Harry sat on the top of his classroom desk, staring down his students as they were doing to him.

After a minute, the bell sounded, signaling the beginning of class. Harry took this as time to address his curious students.

"Hello," Harry said to them. "My name is Professor Potter. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Immediately after he introduced himself, a mass of hands was jabbed into the air. Scratching the back of his neck, Harry gestured to the student closest to him with his hand up.

"You're really Harry Potter?"

Harry inwardly sighed. "Yes, though I'd prefer if you called me Professor." All of the raised hands descended back to the desks.

"I know I went to school here last year, and many of you probably saw me, but you'll have to treat me like any other professor now." A few of the students seemed to be put out by this, but Harry ignored it. "I'm not going to be a mean teacher, but I'm not going to be nice because I may recognize you from when I was in school. Sorry." He was not really sure what to say, but he tried his best to sound professional.

"This class meets three days a week; at least one will be dedicated to theory, and the remaining to practice." He had planned on using that idea for every class- for one day of theory, at least one day of practice.

Another hand shot up.

"So, did you really defeat You-Know-Who as a baby?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

* * *

The rest of the five classes went fairly similarly, though the sixth and seventh years seemed more reserved when it came to addressing his past. He did not need to answer any questions to them about whether or not he really was Harry Potter. For that, he was grateful. He only had a few mishaps with his students, such as the wrong book purchased or students being in the wrong class, but that was not something he took personally.

He had started the classes with theory, mostly book reading; though, he did give short lectures on the topic beforehand. He would have the classes do non-theory their next meeting.

The day went by pretty quickly, at which he was slightly surprised. He had expected his first day to be grueling, tiring and stressful; on the contrary, it was easy and relatively fun.

At the end of the day, Harry headed back to his rooms after locking his classroom, and wrote back to Tom. He was not sure how to write in Parseltongue, though after a few attempts, involving speaking the words in the foreign tongue in his mind, he was able to do it.

_Tom,_

_Things are going fine, though I do have a thing or two to ask you._

_Sunday at eleven would work fine._

_-Harry_

He did not write much, but he figured it would suffice. He sealed the letter and took it to the Owlery, sending it off with Hedwig. Luckily, the bird knew whom he meant when Harry said Tom; otherwise, it would be a little problematic to explain to a passing student.

Harry was not sure why he had decided to keep Hedwig in the Owlery, as he could keep her in his rooms; at this thought, he made a note to move her when she returned.

Harry did not feel like going to Dumbledore's office, as he was a little tired, so he decided to lounge about in his rooms until dinnertime.

The rest was well worth it, and by dinnertime Harry was feeling energetic once more. He ate dinner in the Great Hall and came back to his rooms to sleep, but not before reviewing his notes for the next day's lecture plans.

_Things are looking pretty good, _Harry thought to himself with a smile. _I think I made the right choice teaching here._

With that, he went to sleep, excited for the days ahead.

* * *

Notes:

(1)- I am not sure exactly when breakfast is supposed to start, but I decided it runs between 6:45 and 8:45.

(2)- I'm not sure how Defense Against the Dark Arts classes usually run as far as days per week; I made it up for my story. I don't think it should matter, though.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Feedback would be appreciated.

In case anyone is interested, I wrote a poem about Hogwarts. It's posted in my profile, with this story. No one has to read it, but I wouldn't mind feedback for that too.


	11. Lazy

Title: Ink

Chapter 11: Lazy

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Nothing.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: This chapter is a little different. It's not in Harry's point of view.

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

'Things are looking pretty good,'_ Harry thought to himself with a smile_. 'I think I made the right choice teaching here.'

_With that, he went to sleep, excited for the days ahead._

* * *

He had become rather lazy.

He could always blame it on time and its unrelenting push, a push toward a goal no one could see, urging him toward the finish line with no turning back. Ultimately, everyone would reach the goal by the end of their lives, but their lives would be ended; therefore, the goal was almost obsolete. He could feel the forceful push of time toward old age, and he knew it was virtually irreversible, save for a few options he knew he could not afford to take. Save for one, that is.

He could blame it on the ever-growing shadow of a threat entering his mind, his sources thinning and his thirst still ever unquenched.

And yet, as this thirst was not quenched, he yearned for it to be so, yearned to be what he thought to be whole. There was no other way; he knew it to be true. He had seen the light, as it awakened his soul, and since then he was chasing the potential high that would never let him come down.

But he had fallen behind in his plans.

The plans that had been set in place for longer than he could practically remember; he surely could not remember his dim, less-than-useful life before he found his purpose. His ultimate reason for living.

He found that many looked to him, yet they ultimately did not know him for who he truly was. What he truly was. He did not mind, of course. The less they knew about him, the more they would support him in anything he did. Mindless followers, brainless sheep. The followers would do anything he asked, because he was their leader, their guide, their reason for fighting. Without him, they would scatter, with no purpose, not knowing what to do with their lives. They needed a person to tell them what to do. And he was their person.

And, oh, when he attained his goal, when he reached his high…

No one would dare tell him what to do, and no one would dare disobey him.

Yet, he had let his plans fall to the background as of late. He had, quite honestly, focused more on the layers of his life that others could see, to the point where he almost believed it. As if there was no power to be taken, no goal to be reached, no plans to be carried out. Almost.

There were a few reminders every day that he found, to remind him of what he truly sought. No other person knew of his plans; anyone who had ever known was dead, by his wand- or, occasionally, his hands. He was quite careful in his seeking, and he knew that no person could be trusted in a thing so important to his living.

He had been acting on his plan for so long, and he was getting so close to the goal. He knew how to get it, and he knew where to get it. And yet, he had not acted. He had left that to time, which looked on silently as he carried out his greedy wishes and made them reality.

There was not much left to do, other than take care of the last few knots on the string. Most had simply been cut away, but he knew the worst was left to finish.

And yet, he had become idle in his actions.

He would continue to keep it in the sidelines for now.

But soon, he would finish his plans that started over fifty years ago, and he would finally reach that unstoppable high.

And his work would be done.

* * *

Notes:

I know this is very short, but I did that purposefully because I knew I had to put this in here, but I did not want it to be part of a "normal" chapter- that is, a chapter in Harry's point of view.

Let me know what you think in a review, please.


	12. Puzzles

Title: Ink

Chapter 12: Puzzles

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Nothing, really.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: This is really late, I know, but it's rather long so hopefully that makes up for it.

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_There was not much left to do, other than take care of the last few knots on the string. Most had simply been cut away, but he knew the worst was left to finish._

_And yet, he had become idle in his actions._

_He would continue to keep it in the sidelines for now._

_But soon, he would finish his plans that started over fifty years ago, and he would finally reach that unstoppable high._

_And his work would be done._

* * *

Harry Potter had survived the first few days of classes.

Though he had yet to teach a full week, the new experience was taxing; though, it was not without its enjoyment.

Harry found that his students were quite eager to learn, whether they be young and new to the class or older and more experienced.

Remus' lesson plans had helped him to get an idea of how his classes should go, but he felt comfortable changing them to suit his needs. Though it had not been a long time since he started, he felt confident.

Now, as the weekend was upon him, he was eager to meet with his friends to discuss his recent findings with Peverell. He had been able to keep focused on teaching, but now that the weekend had arrived he found himself quite anxious.

* * *

Come Saturday, Harry found himself travelling to Hogsmeade to meet with Ron and Hermione. They had agreed to meet at The Three Broomsticks, as they had learned not to talk of important things at quieter venues. It seemed strange to Harry that less people would listen if there were more people around; to him that meant more spies and more eavesdroppers. But, it also meant more noise to blend into.

The weather on Saturday was cloudy but pleasantly cool, giving the village a definite late summer feel. Soon, the trees surrounding the wizarding town would shed their summer appearance and turn colors, brightening up their surroundings with reds, oranges and yellows. But for now, Harry enjoyed the last breaths of summer, the season when everything seemed easy.

Walking into the Three Broomsticks, Harry waved to Madame Rosmerta and searched for his friends through the large, boisterous crowd. It was not difficult to find them, for Ron Weasley's bright red hair was hard to miss- it acted as an excellent beacon. He and Hermione were seated in a booth furthest from the door; a good strategic point, Harry thought, as that meant they could observe everyone going in and out of the establishment.

His two friends seemed very happy to see him.

"Hey, Harry!" They chorused as he slid in next to Hermione.

"Hey, guys," He returned, settling into his spot.

"We ordered you a butterbeer," Ron told him as Harry examined the third bottle on the table. Harry grinned his thanks, spelling the top off.

Hermione took out her wand, quickly muttering something Harry could not hear, though he assumed it was a silencing spell of some sort.

"Now, no one can hear us talk," She explained.

"So, mate, tell us about the journal you found," Ron suggested.

Harry sighed, thinking back to the incident. "I went to the Restricted Section, and didn't find anything; then I asked Pince and she found the book for me. I took it to my room right away and when I opened it, all that I found was the first two pages marked: the copyright page and the like. Then, I turned the page, and it was blank. All the other pages are blank, too."

Hermione bit her lip, thoughtful. "Do you think there were some protective enchantments on it? Did you feel any weird magic when you were looking at it?"

Looking back on the event, Harry did remember the strange feeling he obtained after reading the few lines the book entailed. He told as much to his friends. "I don't know much about enchanted books, besides the diary in second year. It doesn't feel like that, though. I haven't tried writing in it, but I doubt that would get us anywhere."

Ron asked, "Were there any other books on Peverell, or just the one?"

"Well, Pince only grabbed one book when I asked her. I asked her if she had any books on Ignotus Peverell, and she took the one from the shelves."

They all sat in silence for a while, thinking.

"Have you asked Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, suddenly. "He's practically all-knowing, surely he'd know about your family?"

Harry hesitated. His mind replayed the warning Voldemort gave him: _Do not let Dumbledore near your vaults._ Though this was not strictly the same thing, he got the information from his vaults and could not find it anywhere else. That basically meant that the information was from his vaults alone, right? And Dumbledore was not to be near it. Since Voldemort had not told him what the old man was after, he figured it would be safer to keep him away from all of it.

"I could," He answered slowly, "If I don't get any leads any time soon. But I want to find it on my own, or with you two helping."

Hermione frowned, but did not disagree. Ron nodded.

"Can't let Dumbledore have all the glory, eh?" He winked.

Harry chuckled quietly.

"Have you thought of anywhere else to look?" The brunet asked Ron and Hermione.

"There is a possibility that he was not originally from Britain," Hermione said, "So I could maybe look in some foreign libraries when I'm on holiday in France."

"Didn't you already go on holiday to France?" Harry asked her.

Hermione stuttered. "Well, my family really likes France- we go often- I can go more often than once if I want!" She exclaimed. Harry's eyebrows shot up at her theatrics, but did not comment on it.

Ron rolled his eyes. "No one's telling you what to do, Hermione, so calm yourself." He turned to Harry. "I could ask my mum if she knows anything about it, or where to look at least."

"Maybe as a last resort? If we can't find anything by, say, Christmas?" Harry asked. He knew how close the Weasley's were to Albus, and did not want him to find out about Harry's searching through her.

"Deal," Ron said. Hermione nodded in agreement.

They chatted idly for a while, catching up on the few weeks they were apart. Hermione was still enjoying being unemployed, while Ron was progressing further through his Auror training. Harry told them about his first week, and about his rooms. He offered to show them his living space, but they both told him that they had errands to run and needed to be on their way shortly. _Next time, _he promised.

His two friends promised to write, and once Hermione's new flat was connected to the Floo network they could firechat.

Then they were off, leaving Harry to his thoughts. It felt strange to him, being an adult. It felt like only yesterday that he fought the Mountain Troll with Ron and Hermione, showing more bravery than most eleven year olds possessed. Now they were of age, doing grown-up things like _running errands _and _buying flats_. It was exciting but crazy at the same time.

Harry spent the rest of his Hogsmeade visit browsing the shops, picking up a few items here and there.

Once evening rolled around, Harry travelled back to the castle and to his rooms. Once there, he came upon an owl at his living room window, a note attached to its leg. It was from Dumbledore, asking him once again to have tea with him and discuss recent happenings. He included his ever-changing password, giving Harry the impression that he would not take no for an answer. Harry figured he had put the man off long enough, and wrote back with a simple _I will come after dinner_. He did not know why he was so hesitant to speak with the headmaster; it was not as if he disliked the man. He blamed some of it on Voldemort, for planting a seed of doubt in his head for the headmaster's intentions. Other than that, he had no reason to think ill of Albus.

After dinner, Harry walked to the headmaster's office. It brought back many memories, as he had to be the most frequent visitor over the years. Some occasions had been enjoyable, while others had been upsetting. He was hoping the meeting tonight would be in the first category, however.

Giving the gargoyle protectors his password, Harry walked up the marble staircase and knocked on the door; a "come in" was given almost before he had knocked, giving Harry the impression that Dumbledore had ways of knowing he had arrived.

Entering the office, Harry's eyes fell upon Albus Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk in blue robes and a matching hat. His half-moon glasses were settled gently but firmly on his nose, and his eyes looked deep into Harry's as he said, "Good evening, Harry."

"Good evening, headmaster," Harry responded with a small smile. He sat down at the man's insisting and took another look around him. "It seems you've redecorated since the last time I was in here," he commented.

Dumbledore's eyes swept over the room as well. "Oh, yes, well, sometimes it is time for a change." The numerous silvery instruments that had been set around the room were gone, save a few on his desk; this was not too strange, but what Harry found puzzling was the absence of the other headmasters' portraits. They appeared to be gone from the room entirely, though they could have been in the room behind the office-a storage room, perhaps, as Harry had never seen the door open to find out for sure. There were a few things that had remained, however, such as the Sorting Hat at the top of one of his bookshelves, and the perch for his phoenix, Fawkes, who was currently observing Harry as he looked around.

Dumbledore offered him a cup of tea, to which Harry accepted and held but did not yet drink; he was still contemplating the missing portraits. He had thought they were placed with a charm to prevent removal, though he could not be sure.

"So, how have your classes been going, my boy?" Albus asked him.

Harry snapped out of his musings and into reality. "Really good," He told him honestly. "It seems to be off to a good start."

"And no one is giving you any trouble?"

Harry shook his head. "Some are a little star struck, but that's already beginning to fade. Everyone seems to enjoy the classes so far."

"Good," Dumbledore answered with a smile. "Before I forget, I must tell you that you start your post-curfew patrols of the castle next week. I will be handing out an official schedule Monday morning, but I know that you will be one of the first to patrol."

Harry thanked him, though inwardly he was dreading the patrolling. It would not be difficult, but he did not feel like walking through the castle and catching rule-breaking students.

"Have you been in contact with Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley?" Albus asked lightly.

Harry nodded. "I actually visited with them in Hogsmeade today."

"Good, good. I'm sure they appreciated seeing you."

Harry wondered why Dumbledore seemed to be making small talk with him, though he figured it was what colleagues did, especially ones who had known each other for a while previously.

"If you don't mind me asking, Harry, who sent you that letter earlier on this week? The one attached to that magnificent bird that seemed to attract everyone's attention?" Albus' eyes twinkled.

Harry kept his face neutral as he quickly thought of a lie to tell the man. He was definitely not going to say that it was from the Dark Lord.

"It was a letter from a fan, though I have no idea how they knew I was at Hogwarts still," Harry replied, trying to make his voice seem exasperated. "She wanted to tell me that her daughter was in Hogwarts and that they both thought very highly of me. I have no idea where she got the bird, she didn't mention it." It was rather farfetched, but Dumbledore did not question it. All he did was stare at Harry for a few moments, and nod his head.

"Fans will go to the ends of the Earth to worship their idols," He told Harry. Harry's eyebrows twitched at the statement, wanting to react, but not knowing what to say. It was a strange statement from the headmaster.

"Well, Harry," Albus said, "I am sure you would like to get some rest before the weekend disappears from beneath you, so I shall let you go. It was nice speaking with you; we shall surely need to do so again soon."

Harry rose, hearing the polite 'get out' in the old man's speech.

"Thank you for the tea, headmaster," Harry said, though after a glance at his cup he felt a little foolish; he had not drunk any. Albus paid no attention to it, however, and said goodbye to the brunet.

Harry walked back to his room, slightly confused at the meeting. Usually, when he was invited to the headmaster's office, there was a specific reason to be there; in his sixth year, he often met with Dumbledore to learn more about Voldemort's past. However, it truly felt as if the man had just wanted to chat. It was a strange reason for Dumbledore to ask him, _more than once_, to meet with him.

Another strange part of the meeting was the lack of portraits. Harry could not get over the strangeness of the empty walls, no quiet conversations being held between scenes. Dumbledore had often used the former headmasters' portraits to converse with, whether it be for advice or simple conversation.

Putting the thoughts out of his mind, Harry entered his rooms and settled into his couch, reading a book he had brought from his flat.

* * *

The next day, Harry left the castle in midmorning to go to Hogsmeade; his meeting with Tom was to occur shortly.

The young man entered the Three Broomsticks, sitting in the same booth he had sat in the day before, though the company would be far different. He was a little early, but he did not mind.

Dark Lords are never late, though, he would later find out. In fact, they were usually early, and this time Voldemort was early to their meeting, walking into the bar and sending a charming smile to Rosmerta. In the guise of Tom Riddle, no one would dare think wrongly of him.

Tom caught sight of Harry almost right away, and when he did he sauntered over to the booth and sat down across from him.

"Good morning, Potter."

"Good morning," Harry answered back. It was strange to exchange such pleasantries with the man who had tried to kill him, more than once, but he dismissed the thought.

"I don't care much for the food here, so we're going somewhere else. Follow me." At that, Tom rose again and headed for the door, not once looking back at Harry. Harry did not really understand Tom's seemingly split second decisions, but he went along with it.

They walked out into the main street, and Tom motioned for him to follow to a side road with little to no traffic. Once rather far from the main path, Tom turned back to Harry.

"We'll be taking a portkey, I hope you don't mind."

Harry's eyebrows rose, because he really _did _mind; he did not like taking a portkey without previous notice and without the known destination.

"Where are we going?" He asked the man.

"To lunch," Tom responded simply, eyebrow raised. "Put your hand on this galleon." Harry did so.

Tom whispered something Harry did not quite catch and they were thrust into a whirlwind of colors. It was soon over, however, and Harry felt the relief of finishing the less than favorable transportation of portkeys.

Looking around, Harry deduced that they were in some sort of mansion; they were before a large, silver marble staircase with lavishly decorated walls. There was a large chandelier above them, glittering in a light hidden from Harry's view. The floor was made of marble as well, a deep black with flecks of silver.

"Where are we?" Harry asked Tom.

"Malfoy manor," Tom answered him lightly.

Harry's eyes bulged. "I can't be here," He panicked, "They'll kill me if they found out. I'm not their favorite person, you know!"

Tom seemed to consider this for a moment, before answering, "You will be fine. No one would dare kill the Dark Lord's guest," He hissed.

The panic lessened slightly, but Harry remained tense as Tom led him up the stairs and through a long hallway. Harry lost track of how far they went before they went through many turns and more hallways, before arriving upon a large archway with sturdy but elegant double doors.

"This is where we shall be eating."

Harry did not feel comfortable entering the Malfoys' dining room, and ultimately felt as if he had been lured into a trap; he did not say anything, however, as it would not help the situation any. If Voldemort _had _lured him here for bad purposes, there was nothing he could do now.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, _he hissed in his mind as he followed Tom. _Why would you do this? Following Voldemort to an unknown location when you're not even sure if the man won't kill you?_

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself. When he decided he was focused enough, he noticed they had walked through the fancy dining area to a side room, where there was a smaller table.

"Take a seat," Tom ordered.

Harry complied.

"Are you done panicking yet? The Malfoys are not here at the moment."

Harry felt slightly better.

"And I'm not going to kill you today."

And Harry believed him. Though he did not appreciate the 'today' added to the comfort.

Tom seated himself across the table from Harry. He snapped his fingers, and a house elf appeared with a _pop_, bowing to him.

"Get us lunch," Tom said to it, and the house elf disappeared with a _pop_.

"I hope you don't mind the lack of ordering," He said to Harry. "I prefer to be surprised when I receive my lunch. It makes life more interesting."

Harry's eyebrows shot up at that. "That doesn't sound like a very Dark Lord-ish thing to do," he said.

"Then what is? Do you know a lot of other dark lords who choose not to be surprised with their meals?"

Harry snorted. "Not what I meant, Tom. I just figured you would want to be in control of everything."

"Chaos and control are not complete opposites," Tom answered. "But enough of that. I wanted to ask how things have gone in the castle."

"Good," Harry said, shrugging. "My rooms are nice, and my office is nice."

"Has anything of note gone on?" Tom asked.

Harry told Tom about the journal of Peverell. "Do you have any ideas on what's going on? You'd probably know better than me about weird journals."

Tom narrowed his eyes at him. "And why would you assume that?"

Harry smirked, but said nothing. He was not sure if Tom knew of Harry's dealings with his diary, but if he did not, he would leave that information to himself for later discussions.

"I am not sure why a book would be blank besides those few pages," Tom answered him. "If I could examine the book, maybe I would come to different conclusions."

"Well, next time you come to Hogwarts, feel free to," Harry joked. Tom raised his eyebrow in reply.

The food arrived with a _pop_, just as the house elf had previously. It was roast chicken with vegetables.

"I spoke with Dumbledore yesterday evening," Harry mentioned as an afterthought.

Tom perked up at this. "What did you speak about?" He asked.

"Not much, really," Harry said honestly. "He invited me for tea, and asked me how my classes were going…he asked me who sent me the letter with the gigantic bird attached to it," Harry added with a glare.

Tom smirked. "It's a lovely creature, isn't it?"

"Very you, Tom."

"I'll take that as a complement." Tom's face grew serious. "And that's all he asked of you?"

Harry shrugged. "He asked me about my friends, but really, that's it." He remembered what had been puzzling him, however. "I did notice that he took down all of the portraits of old headmasters from the wall… I thought that was peculiar. What do you think?"

Tom's face remained neutral, but he thought he saw a flicker of something in his eyes; of what, though, he was not certain. "Is that so."

Harry nodded. "He mentioned something about redecorating."

"I was not aware that those portraits could be removed from the walls," Tom said slowly. "This is a strange development. If he seems to do any other strange things, let me know immediately. And do not, under any circumstances, let him know what's in your vaults."

"What's in my vaults that he wants so badly, anyway?" Harry asked him, irritated. "You haven't told me what, and I don't know what I'm supposed to be keeping from him. It's frustrating."

Tom smirked, though it was more of a grimace. "It's better you don't know, Harry. That way, if he goes through your mind, he will not know that you know of it."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, once again. "What makes you think he would go through my mind?"

Tom looked at him intensely. "What makes you think he hasn't already? In fact, what makes you think he does not do frequently? Your mind is open and unprotected, Harry Potter. It's hard _not _to fall into it."

"How would you know?" Harry asked crossly, but then felt stupid for saying so; of course Voldemort would know how easy it was to get inside his head. He had been doing so regularly in his school years.

"I hope you didn't forget all we've been through," Tom answered with a raised brow. "Plus, do you really think I haven't been seeing in your mind these past few months? I would not have approached you, had I not found some information I deemed important."

This did not impress Harry. "So you've been in my head."

"Regularly, yes."

Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His meal had been forgotten long ago, in the heat of the conversation.

"How else would I know that you trust me?" Tom asked.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You saw stuff in my head that made you think I trust you? Bullshit," He said.

Tom smirked. "I suppose you are not always aware of your inner thoughts. No matter. If you did not trust me, would you be here now?"

"Yes," Harry hissed. "You would've dragged me here either way."

All Tom said was, "Whatever you say," and went back to his meal.

The rest of the lunch went in silence, though Harry did not mind. He was busy thinking of the fact that both Voldemort and Dumbledore were seeing into his mind, poking and prodding when they saw fit, and Harry had not even known.

_I suppose he's not the best Leglimens around for nothing,_ Harry thought. _ I wouldn't have noticed that he was in my mind because he's really good at it. And I'm sure Dumbledore's the same way._

Once lunch was over, Tom led Harry out of the room and back through the hallways.

"Why are we at Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked him, breaking the silence they had endured.

"It is where I stay most of the time," Tom told him.

Harry did not know what to say to that, so he nodded and continued to walk.

They arrived back at the entryway in which they had arrived originally, and Tom turned to Harry.

"We'll be staying in touch, Potter. Thank you for eating lunch with me." With that, he pressed something into Harry's hand, and Harry was whisked once again into the whirling colors and shapes a portkey creates.

* * *

Notes:

I hope this chapter is to everyone's liking. Things are starting to happen.

Please let me know what you think in a review. They really help me.


	13. Accusation

Title: Ink

Chapter 13: Accusation

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Nothing.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: This chapter is pretty short, but it will help with fluency when the next chapter rolls around.

**_4/2/2013:_ I am putting this story on a temporary hiatus until May 9th. It sucks, but it gives me a chance to catch up on things in real life, as well as write without thinking about weekly deadlines. Do not fear; this story will never be abandoned. I have material written for the next few chapters, but I need to fine tune them and fill in some spots.**

* * *

**Previously on Ink:**

_They arrived back at the entryway in which they had arrived originally, and Tom turned to Harry._

"_We'll be staying in touch, Potter. Thank you for eating lunch with me." With that, he pressed something into Harry's hand, and Harry was whisked once again into the whirling colors and shapes a portkey creates._

* * *

"Professor Potter, could you please help me with something?"

Harry looked up from his papers at Ginny Weasley. She was standing in front of his desk, a determined glint in her eyes and stance. The rest of the students were packing up their books and quills, getting ready for their next class.

Mentally shrugging, Harry nodded and asked, "What do you need help with, Ms. Weasley?" He tried to keep the mocking tone out of his voice when addressing her such, but it was difficult. The wizard found it hard to stay professional when it came to his remaining friends at Hogwarts.

Ginny hesitated, glancing behind her. Once the last student had packed up and exited the room, she placed a Silencing Charm upon the classroom and closed the door with a wave of her wand, before turning back to the man who, at this point, was quite bemused.

"What's up, Gin?"

Ginny pointed at Harry with an accusing air, stating, "I saw you leaving Hogsmeade Sunday morning."

Harry's insides turned to ice, but he kept his outward appearance calm and uncaring.

"Okay."

"You left with a person who looked quite familiar."

"Oh?" He questioned.

"Yes," She answered. "He looked a lot like Tom Riddle."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"You can't argue that I don't know what he looks like," She continued, "As I spent many days of my first year with him."

He nodded.

"So, is there a Tom look-alike that the world should know about, or were you spending time with the Dark Lord?"

Harry said nothing. Truly, he did not know what to say; he had not expected a confrontation from anyone. He had forgotten the redhead girl's involvement with the younger Tom, but it made sense. To give her enough evidence to talk to him about it, though, meant she must have spent some time watching him.

Keeping his mouth shut, he neither confirmed nor denied her statement, and did not answer her question.

Ginny sighed.

"Harry, I know it was him. I saw the ring on his left hand- it was the Slytherin crest. He's the heir of Slytherin, of course." She paused. "He saw me, watching him, and I think that's why he brought you away from Hogsmeade."

Harry blinked. "You think he brought me somewhere else because of you?"

She nodded. "He looked right at me, said something, and told you that you two were going somewhere else."

"D'you think he recognized you, then?"

"No," She said to him, "Because I don't think his memory form can transfer experiences to him. He might've figured out I'm a Weasley- I mean, there aren't many redheads of Hogwarts age these days- but other than that, I think he just saw me as a nosy bystander."

Harry looked down at his desk, contemplating what to do. "Are you going to tell anyone?" He asked softly.

Silence. Then, "No, I don't think so. You're not thick, Harry, so you must know what you're doing. There has to be a reason why you're spending time with the man who killed your parents."

Harry looked at her. He supposed she had put some thought into this.

"Why _are _you spending time with him?" She asked him, finally.

Harry did not quite know the answer to that, himself, so he said, "He's given me some things to think about, I guess. And he's been pretty damn civil. I guess that phrase, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer' could be how I see the happenings between us at this point."

Ginny nodded. "I know you won't listen if I tell you to stay away from him, but if you need someone to talk to about it, I'm here. I'm sure you won't be going to Dumbledore about it," She teased. "And it's nice to have someone to share ideas with.

"And besides," She continued, "I at least know somewhat how the Dark Lord is, as I've met him before, in a way."

Harry smiled at her. "Thanks, Gin."

"No problem," She returned, chuckling. "Have you told Ron and Hermione?"

Harry snorted. "No, and I don't plan to."

"Good idea. Obviously, keeping secrets is not favorable, but they'd probably explode if they knew you were hanging out with Voldemort."

Chuckling, the green-eyed man had to agree with her. Ron would probably cart him off to St. Mungo's, and Hermione would accuse him of being possessed, or something of the sort.

Checking the time, Harry said to Ginny, "I have another class soon, and _you _have another class soon. Let's finish this conversation after dinner, okay? We can go to my rooms."

"Is that allowed?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

Harry shrugged. "McGonagall mentioned something about letting you in once, and she didn't say it was against any rules. It might be frowned upon, but I don't think they'll care if it's you. My rooms are down the hall, but meet me here so you don't get caught walking by teachers' rooms by yourself."

"Makes sense," Ginny said. "I'll meet you here after dinner then?"

"Yeah," He said, smiling.

Ginny brought down the Silencing Charm with a _Finite_, and walked out the Defense classroom with a wave.

Harry sighed and rubbed his hands together in worry. _Should I tell Tom that Ginny knows? I trust her to keep my secrets, but Tom might not… and I don't want her to get hurt. But to be honest, it would be nice to have someone to talk to about Tom and his… weirdness._

He considered the Dumbledore situation, and Peverell as well. _Surely it can't hurt to tell her that. Peverell is my story to tell, anyway, not Tom's. And Dumbledore and my vaults pertain to me, too. So I can tell her that._

Harry nodded to himself in finality, deciding he would tell her everything.

The students for the next class trickled in, and Harry continued his day, happy to have someone to talk to about his secrets.

* * *

"Spill it, Potter."

Ginny was sitting across from Harry in his sitting room, sipping a cup of tea and staring at the man in anticipation.

"Where to begin?" Harry asked himself. "Well, I suppose it started when Dumbledore told me about my vaults. I have several of them, which I hadn't known about before."

Ginny's eyes widened. "And Dumbledore did all along?"

Harry nodded. "So he told me, and I went to Gringotts and checked them out. There're seven vaults, and there's loads of stuff in there. I can show you sometime, if you wish."

Ginny grinned. "You'd better."

"I took Ron and Hermione to the vaults shortly after, and after we were done, I was sitting outside in Diagon, alone, when he walked up to me."

"Tom, you mean?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "He looked young, as you saw him this weekend, and he was relatively nice to me. Well," He corrected himself, "Not nice, but civil. And he gave me a warning."

"A warning?" She asked.

"Yes. He warned me to keep Dumbledore out of my vaults."

Ginny's eyebrows disappeared into her fringe. "Did he say why?"

Harry shrugged. "He said that Dumbledore's after something that's in there, but he won't tell me what it is. I don't know how Tom knows what it is, either, but I haven't really had enough time to ask at this point."

Ginny hesitated. "Do you think he told you that so he could get you to distrust Dumbledore, and get into your vaults himself? Maybe he wants something in your vaults."

Harry nodded. "That wouldn't surprise me, I guess, but he hasn't made any such move yet. Dumbledore doesn't seem like a bad guy to me, but what do I really know about the man?" He thought to himself for a moment. "I don't know much about his life besides him being headmaster, and I don't even know much about that. I don't know what he gets up to during the times I'm not there."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, but do you really think that he's trying to get something from your vaults?"

"I don't know," Harry answered her. "But, let's say Voldemort is right. Dumbledore is after something in there. He made it sound pretty bad if he got his hands on it. It would be safer if I didn't give him access until I got more information, right?"

"Yes, that's true," The redhead agreed.

Harry thought of the other things he should tell her. "I found a family tree, and it shows the origins of the Potter family."

"It must go back pretty far, then," Ginny said, impressed.

"Yes, it does, though the most interesting part is the changing of names."

At the young woman's confused look, Harry went on. "There's a man named Ignotus Peverell, and he's the person who started the Potter line; he changed his name to Ignotus Potter, and all of his descendents have kept that name since."

Ginny's eyebrows seemed permanently nestled in her hairline. "I wonder why he changed his name," She said to herself.

"I've been wondering the same thing, and Ron and Hermione have too," Harry told her. "We've been looking for any information on the guy, but we haven't found anything- besides this." He picked up the journal that was sitting on his coffee table. "I found it in the Hogwarts library. But it doesn't have any information in it that's useful, because most of it is blank."

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed as she picked up the offered book. "That sounds familiar," she said suspiciously.

"I mentioned that to Tom, but he didn't say anything. He didn't sound like he knew about it, either."

"Hmm," She said to herself as she flipped through the pages. "But it has a couple pages of writing."

"Nothing important, though," He said.

She gazed long and hard at the writing, and shivered. "This, here," She motioned to the page, "There's some sort of magic on it. I can feel it."

Harry looked to where she was pointing. 'There shall be no copies of this work.'

"So you think it's a spell of some sort?" He asked her. He remembered when he first read that line. He felt a force rushing through him, very much like the magic he was familiar with but also very different.

"Yes," She said softly, "But I don't know why. I've never heard of magic written into words. How can words on paper have power?"

"I don't know, but there seems to be a lot of things in the Wizarding World that is a mystery," said Harry. "I mean, look at wandless magic. There are lots of people who think it's a myth. It's not; it's just not popular because it requires more concentration. And many people feel unbalanced when they don't have their wand channeling their magic."

Ginny nodded slowly. "So, do you think this writing- a spell, perhaps- prevents the words from being copied?"

Harry looked down at the journal. "Maybe it was copied, and that's why there's nothing there."

Ginny whistled lowly. "That's a mean spell. I bet it's good for anti-cheating. So, maybe the original book had that spell, and then the copy was made, but this is what happened."

"But why would it be in the Hogwarts library, then?"

Ginny stared at it, as if the book itself would give the answer.

"That, Harry, is a mystery."

* * *

Harry and Ginny spent the rest of the time before curfew chatting about this and that, though they occasionally brought the discussion back to the strange occurrences Harry had been involved in recently. His involvement with Voldemort, Peverell and his journal, and Dumbledore- it was still just as mystifying, but Harry felt as if he had gained a lot of help by telling Ginny Weasley about them. He could count on someone to bounce ideas off of while inside the castle, which was something he felt would help him a lot over the next few months.

* * *

Notes: I intend to keep Ginny around in this story, but not as a romantic interest. She'll be a friendly helper, and possibly a mediator.

I hope everyone enjoys this filler-ish chapter.

Please leave a review and tell me what you think.

In other news, I'm in the planning stage of a new story I thought up recently. It will be a post-Hogwarts story, again, but it will not be anti-Dumbledore… or anti-Voldemort. It will be Wizard vs. Muggle. I won't do any serious writing on it until _Ink _is done, but it is in the works and it shall not be forgotten.

I hope everyone has a good day!


End file.
